


Learn The Rules

by D3moira



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beth Greene Lives, Canon Compliant, Co-Written, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Grady Memorial Hospital, Implied Sexual Content, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, POV Alternating, POV Multiple, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Resolved Sexual Tension, Roleplay Logs, Sleepy Cuddles, Slow Burn, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 05:03:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 110,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6552139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D3moira/pseuds/D3moira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beth thought the hard part would be to find her family; Daryl thought the hard part would be to let her go. Turns out neither was right. (AU, set around S5 Finale onward.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. reunion.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a post-Grady fic, where Beth reunited with Team Family at the same time as Morgan. It is Bethyl centric, and will be from either perspective. We may glance over interactions if they are closely matched to an in-show event, or we may have chapters written purely from one perspective. It is primarily written from two points of view, and was originally written as a roleplay between Beth ([myself](madeiit.tumblr.com)) and Daryl ([my friend](http://nxbodysbitch.tumblr.com/)). I have edited both part to ensure flow and consistency, but the threads are available as a rough cut on each tumblr. If you have questions pertaining to the fic, or our changes to canon, please comment or send asks to either of these blogs.
> 
> This is a formatted roleplay, so it will be very introspective, segmented and will not read like a traditional fanfiction.

   Today, Daryl would die.

   The thought didn't hit him like it used to. He used to care about that sort of shit, but now, he knew better. He was seated in the car smoking what he thought would be his last cigarette. Aaron was one of the good ones, and there weren’t many good ones left. He deserved to live. Except Aaron was being stubborn, saying he wouldn’t leave him and this only angered Daryl. It didn’t make sense that both of them died out here, Aaron had someone to get back to and he had someone worth fighting for. He’d sacrifice himself for Aaron to get back to Eric.

   Aaron wouldn’t let him do it. He offered an alternative, that they’d go together. Daryl thought it was stupid and reckless, and that Aaron should just let him take the risk alone. But he agreed to the other’s offer. Aaron was just as stubborn as him, and things would only get worse. Bad people were coming. Daryl moved to take his knife out of his sheath, _Beth’s knife_. An ache ran through his chest, but pushed the feeling aside. He was ready to die, and today might be the day.

   “On the count’a three.” Daryl said his fingertips gripping around the handle of the knife closing his eyes for a moment. “One, two –”

   The next thing he knew there was blood splatter on the window, someone was out there.

   With the walkers distracted, they exited the car. Aaron and Daryl worked together with the man who’d arrived, to fight off the herd. They pierced the rotted skulls with knives, until enough of them had been pushed aside. They made a run for the gates.

   Daryl was out of breath, panting softly as they squeezed through the gates looking back at all the walkers building up, all scrabbling to get them. But they were safe. He should have felt more relieved but honesty he wasn’t. He felt _nothing_.    

   Aaron began to give the stranger his whole speech about the community they had. There was normally more surveillance involved, they didn’t often bring complete strangers in. But Daryl got Aaron’s logic; surely he was good, as he’d risked his life to help them out of a bind. He didn’t need to do that. Daryl thought that there were still good people out there, something that he’d been told enough times that it’d stuck in his mind.

   Morgan spoke of having a companion, about looking for a man named Rick Grimes and Daryl put the pieces together that this was the man that Rick talked about in the beginning–he had a son, he must have lost him. Aaron and Daryl agreed to wait around for his companion, and then they would head back to Alexandria.

**...**

   It all started with a map.

   Before the map, there was a gunshot, but Beth didn’t count that. She couldn’t remember the gunshot, aside from the blinding pain that came with it. She could remember being awoken by machines beeping at her side, alone. Like the first time she’d woken at Grady. There was the smell of hospital-grade soaps and laundered scrubs. It was closer to a nightmare. She had murdered and stolen in life, and so in death, she’d been sent to Hell.

   And her personal hell was a sick recreation of Grady, white walls, Dr. Edwards appearing by her side – _Hell_ . Because the _pain_ , the loneliness, there was no way she was alive. There were flashes, red, black, Dawn, but then Rick, Carol, _Daryl_ – there was her family.

   What had happened?

 _You were shot._ The apparition of Dr. Edwards spoke, smirking, proud. But proud of _what_?

   There was forest around her now, instead of Grady. She had escaped, but not unscathed. Beth touched her forehead, fingertips brushed across the slow-forming scar – puckered, wrapped around the entry wound, and a matching one at the back. It’d been weeks… _Months_ . By now, it’d been two months. Her family had come and gone from the hospital. They’d left her in a trunk of a car, and she was bleeding, and then she was dead – except she wasn’t dead. She was here, alive, her clothes from _before_ , yellow polo shirt, cardigan discarded by the end of her bed. She had been left behind, believed to be dead, but she _wasn’t_.

   The days of recovery turned into weeks, and it was _too long_ before she could safely leave. But Grady had changed; the occupants could move freely in and out, there was no longer a restriction on their movements. The remaining cops began travelling out in search of supplies instead of new people. Things weren’t good at Grady, but they were better. They matched the world outside, but Beth hated it all the same.

   It’d never be a home, and it’d never be a place she would feel safe.

   Then a man had turned up, in search of help with a map he had clutched at his side. Beth knew the area better, given all the travel she had done with Daryl and her family – but she saw it. Rick’s name. This man knew _Rick._

   They traveled in silence, no questions. Beth had said her name, and that she was looking to find Rick, but that was about as much as either needed. Morgan was simple, and refused to kill, and Beth didn’t know how to feel about that. She just appreciated the fact she wasn’t alone in her travels. They would camp, she would hunt their food, and he would meditate over the map. Day in, day out, this was their pattern. They would move at their own pace, with their paths overlapping at set points. This went on for a few weeks, Beth would wager. Maybe more.

   Today was no different. The cans factory was their next point of contact, a few leagues up the road.

   A tricksy squirrel had caught her eye, with an injured leg. It’d managed to gnaw its way out of her trap, but it’d been injured. It scrabbled, and hissed, and tried to escape her, but it’d not been so lucky. Beth felt a pang of guilt as she snatched it, to cut it’s throat, but it was food. She whispered a small apology to it, hands spackled with a hint of blood, but otherwise clean. As clean as she could be, in nomadic lifestyle.

   Beth approached the edge of the greenery with light steps. She was _late_ , sure, but Morgan never rushed either. They always reformed, and they trusted one another. The particularly _crafty_ but fat squirrel had taken her time to catch, but it’d be worth it. She kept it clutched off to her side, throat slit, eyes bugged out, but ready to be skinned and cooked. But Morgan wasn’t alone.

   They didn’t have their weapons pointed at Morgan. She only had a crowbar and her knife, neither weapon particularly _good_ at a distance. So Beth stopped just inside the expanse of greenery, to observe. She was far enough away that it’d be stupid to shoot her, if they spotted her. They didn’t appear _aggressive_.

   Despite the distance, one of the men stood out. It was his broad shoulders, shaggy brown hair, and a downward posture. The stance of a man who was trying to appear larger, intimidating, but still closed in – she recognized that. The other factors fell together, the faded red rag, the stern expression, the weapon.

   Beth mouthed the word ‘crossbow’ before it clicked.

   His hair was longer, and his clothes were _different_ , but that wasn’t a surprise. Things changed, people changed, but she  _knew_. Beth felt herself shaking, but she _knew_ she couldn’t _run_ at them. She wanted to, but to burst out of the bushes at people who were armed was a dangerous idea.

   Instead, Beth pushed out from the shrubbery, squirrel still in hand, her eyes painfully wide. She saw Morgan turn, and the other man smiled towards her, but her focus was on Daryl. Because that’s who it was, without a doubt. She approached the trio like a cautious animal, nervous, overwhelmed, downright _shaking_. This wasn’t real. Good things didn’t happen like this anymore, did they? She was afraid he’d disappear, like a mirage, or that she’d misjudged from the bushes. It could be anyone, her doubt whispered. But she was closing in, and he was only becoming _realer_.

   "Daryl?"

**...**

   One thing that Daryl noticed off the bat was that Morgan was quiet. He enjoyed it, but it made Aaron nervous. Aaron kept shifting and talking about Alexandria, as if he was selling the place to Morgan. It was a waste of breath; Morgan was looking for Rick and they had Rick. He doubted the man cared about things like electricity and hot water. Aaron was just eager to get back to the community while Daryl didn’t really care. He could stay out here for a while, just be out in the woods, to enjoy the solitude of it.

   Alexandria was too much for him at times. He felt like a caged animal stuck inside the walls. Not only that, he felt like he didn’t _deserve_ to be there. Why was he there and not her? Why did he deserve to live and why did she have to die? She was one of the good ones, he was nobody, _nothing_.

   The bushes shifted a ways down the road, and the archer looked up. His hand set on his crossbow instinctively. There was no hissing, no sound of groans, so it wasn’t a walker. And it wasn’t enough movement to be a group. He remembered Morgan’s companion was due to arrive shortly, so he took his hand off his crossbow.

   Daryl’s eyes shifted over to the bushes, only to land on the blonde. He looked at her with disbelief. He blinked a few times, almost comical. Because it wasn’t her. He rubbed at his tired eyes, as he was sure he was hallucinating again. This wouldn’t have been the first time that he had hallucinated Beth Greene, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last time either.

   The first time he had seen her he was when he was seated outside the barn. It had reminded him of the one that they’d burned down, to wash away the past. Daryl had completely lost all faith in everyone and everything, cigarette pinched between downward lips. He smoked his cigarette and he let the tears fall. He didn’t feel a damn thing.

   Daryl had wanted to feel something, good or bad, so he burned himself. He pressed the end of the cigarette against his hand just to feel. That’s when he heard her voice. She came out behind the trees and told him to stop, that he needed to keep going, and so he did. For her.

   In time, he realized that the only times he had seen her was when he was doing things that were harmful to himself, or intentionally reckless. She was there to bring him back into the light, to tell him that everything was going to be okay, but because of that he started to do more reckless things because he _wanted_ to see her. He had grown so reckless, not caring if he died. All that mattered was that he wanted to see her. Even if only for a few minutes, even if it wasn’t _real_.

   Right now he guessed it was one of those times. What he had done in the car, his offer to sacrifice himself, could be seen as reckless.

   Daryl stared at her, his lips parted. He noticed something _different_ this time. She had scars. In all his previous hallucinations, she was wearing clothes that she had worn back at the farm, soft blues, pretty things, and she had no scars. She looked too perfect for this world.

   Now she was wearing that familiar yellow polo, her jeans and her cowboy boots. There were scars, two he could clearly make out despite the distance, and she was dirty. Worn. Tired. She had never looked like that in his hallucinations, like she was part of his world.

   Morgan spoke up. “This is my companion–” He began to say but Daryl didn’t even give him the time to finish.

   If they saw her too, she was real.

   Daryl sprinted over to her–something he should have done at Grady. It was something he had kicked himself for over and over again, for all that he could have done. If things would have gone differently, maybe he could have saved her. Now he wasn’t going to take any chances, this time he’d hold her in his arms. He had chickened out at Grady, and he'd lost his change to hold her again. He had carried her out of the hospital, but that didn't fucking count. It was the single worst thing he'd had to do in his miserable life, and that was from a man who'd taken down his own brother, and suffered through years of abuse.

   As his hands his cloth and flesh, Daryl dragged her close. It was rough, and awkward, but he couldn’t give a shit. He felt Aaron’s gaze burning into the back of him but he didn’t care. His lower lip trembled slightly as his arms squeezed her tight making sure she was real, making sure that all of this was real. He picked her up slightly mid-hug, only to set her down. He drew back enough to rest his hands on either side of her face, to get a look at her, to make sure that she was _okay._ His thumb settled against the scar on her cheek, and his eyes darted over her face.

   There was a scar on her forehead, small, angry, but he felt like kissing it, and the others, and all of her, but that impulse was lost to the adrenaline.

   It wasn't like that with Beth, he reminded himself.

**...**

   Beth had no regrets, or so she told herself. She was _glad_ she had stabbed Dawn. She had found out that the woman had been shot by one of her own; a scruffy man, dirty, crying, that was how Dr. Edwards had described him. She hadn’t appreciated the words, but she knew. Part of her knew what she had done was stupid, and she should have just left, but her life hadn’t mattered. Dawn didn’t deserve Noah back, and she was only going to continue the cycle. More people would be kidnapped, beaten down, forced to work their share, other girls would be raped, and things would only get worse. She wanted to prove that Dawn was a human, that she could _bleed_ , but in doing so, she had been killed. Briefly, anyway.

   The cycle at Grady had ended, and her soul was lighter for it. Except that opened up a new question; could you really feel better for having killed someone, even indirectly? The questions circled her, and she spoke at length with it, with Morgan.

   It wasn’t very diverse conversation, and would always lead back to the idea that all life is precious. He repeated it like a mantra. All while Beth was praying to herself that she’d find Maggie again, and Rick, and Carl, and Glenn, and all of her family – she tried not to think of Daryl, because that was horrible.

 _The dirty crying man…_ Beth didn’t cry anymore, but that was a complete fucking _lie_ , because tears were prickling her eyes, and she wasn’t _ready_ . She’d dreamed of finding him again, all through Grady, every damn night, and then all the more _after_ she’d been shot, but the moment was here, now. The instinct to flinch because someone was coming _at_ her, that was hard to turn off. She was happy, _so_ happy, to see him, but she had spent months hiding, and afraid, and it didn’t much _matter_ , because he was wrapped himself around her. The nervous twitches died in her, her bones turning to jelly, her face against his chest.

   Beth dropped the squirrel, and softened into the embrace. Daryl wasn’t going to hurt her, or grab her, or push her. He did all three at once, but the intent was kind and sweet, and he was _real_ , and he was here. She met his embrace now that she’d caught up, like she’d forgotten how nice it was to be hugged. She had hugged Noah, and others, but Grady warped everything. It was all take, and clinical, and awful.

   The hug was returned, as much as she could manage. Beth let out a sound of mixed surprise and amusement when he lifted her up, almost a giggle. She recovered, nose wrinkled up from the width of her smile, eyes crinkled at either side. When his hands came to her cheeks, she drew her hands back. She set her them on his wrists, heart near the point of _exploding_ from her chest.

   "Thought you said I was too heavy for you." Her attention flicked across his face, hungry to take in all the changes. More scruffy, still the same shadowed eyes, the little mole by his lip, the hair in his face. She thumbed at his inner wrists, mouth dropped open in a faint look of wonder.

   Because he was here, and he was close, and warm, and she didn’t know what what happening in her chest. Something close to excitement, but even closer to adoration.

**...**

   Daryl couldn’t believe that this time was real, but he could _feel_ her – something he couldn’t do before in his hallucinations. The archer had no intention of letting go of her anytime soon and he was grateful that Morgan and Aaron let the two of them have this moment. This moment that should have happened months ago at Grady but instead he hung back, hung back behind the others until she went out of reach and then a gunshot rang through the hallway and Beth had hit the floor. A memory that played in his head over and over again every time he shut his eyes.

   His thumbs gently brushed over her cheeks, each stroke of his finger very gentle as he took all of her in. He noticed a few scars on her face, one from the bullet and two other long ones that he recognized that she had when he first saw her in that hallway at Grady. He wanted to know everything that happened, he wanted to know that she was okay and that she would come with them to Alexandria.

   He wouldn’t go back without her, if she said that she didn’t want to go to Alexandria he’d go with her anywhere. He knew that wouldn’t be the case though, she would want to get back to Maggie, Judith, Carl and all the others. She was probably only traveling with Morgan because the two had bumped into one another, both having one common goal in mind and that was to find Rick.

   Normally Daryl didn’t believe in luck or fate, but right now he felt pretty damn lucky.

   What were the odds of someone surviving a gunshot wound to the head?

   Then guilt rushed through him, thinking back to Grady. A small herd formed into an even larger one, and he'd had to let her go. He put her safely into the back of the trunk and he tried to get that car started. He had nearly got himself killed in the process, as he tried to hotwire the piece of shit car, but the battery was long since dead. The walkers were coming from everywhere, and Rick had to yank him from the car to get him to leave. He wanted to go back for her. He had every intention to do so, but things didn't go that way. He felt so guilty for leaving her body there in a trunk. Had she remembered that? Had she remembered him putting her in the trunk, did she think that he left her behind?

   The archer couldn’t hold it in anymore, a few stray tears rolled down his cheeks and he ducked his head slightly, the last time he had cried in front of her was back outside the moonshine shack and she didn’t judge him. She didn’t tell him to man up like his brother had, instead she hugged him and made him feel better. Beth made him feel like he didn’t have to carry the weight of all the burdens on his shoulders alone.

   His lips twitched up slightly into a small grin.

   “Never said that – said you were heavier than ya looked.” He said, that aching feeling in his chest was gone because she was back. Instead it was replaced by another feeling, a feeling he couldn’t place. His stomach felt like it was in knots and his heart was beating rapidly and he just assumed it was because of the adrenaline that pumped through his veins.

**...**

  Maybe it was rude to not have introduced herself to Daryl’s companion, or to have completely ignored Morgan, but they understood. They had to. Beth hadn’t been selfish in so long, and she figured if there was ever a time, it was now. Because her work at Grady had morphed into a higher cause, so much so that it obscured what she had spent weeks aching for. She wanted to be back with her people, her _family_ , and she wanted Daryl back. He was an entity in himself, every time that she thought of them.

  This was hard to explain, and she didn’t even really understand it herself, but Daryl was something else in her eyes. He’d looked out for her when he hadn’t had to, and he’d trusted her, and opened up, and she had come to learn how similar they were. Not on the surface, no, they were too different in that way. They’d come from different places, with different interests, but they came together into something else. She had changed him, and he had changed her, and now she was lost in his embrace, and crying. It was pathetic little huffs, laughter and excitement all mixed up with upset. Why hadn’t they stayed? What had happened to her? She had some vague idea, that she’d been carried out, left behind, but why? What had she _done_?

  Beth reached up to push his hair from his eyes, to better see him. His hair was getting so long, and it was so lank, and her heart broke. "Ain’t very _nice_ ." Beth huffed back at him, lips twitching on the edge of more tears. But no. She wasn’t supposed to cry. She’d known, _known_ , that Daryl would be alive. She’d never even considered the alternative. Daryl was impossible to kill, a brave man, a good man, and he’d be there till the end of time, or until he saw himself out. Neither were acceptable. The flipside was her; she was the variable, the one who’d died and risen. She was the weak link that’d snapped.

  The looks were getting to her. She sighed through her nose, eyes closed. After a sobering moment, she thumbed Daryl’s cheeks to get rid of his tears. Because he shouldn’t be crying, and she was the _reason_ for it. Her eyes lingered on his hand, the one that’d been on her cheek. The little circle wound, a burn, made her frown. But she didn’t question it, because in this world, it could have been anything or anyone. But that was new.

  "So you met Morgan – um." Beth couldn’t quite find words, but she kept her hands gently framed around Daryl’s face, fingers pinning his hair back from his eyes. She gave him a brief look, only to let his hair go. If he wanted a moment, he could have it. She rubbed at her eyes with a dirty forearm, nose snotty and _gross_. She must’ve looked like a mess. "Hey. I’m Beth." She beamed past Daryl’s arm, not game enough to remove herself from him.

  The man, who happened to be gawking, seemed to catch on. "I’m Aaron and – sorry, I’ve just…" He pointed vaguely at Daryl, a mixture of pride and awe. "I’ve known Daryl for a while now, and he’s not really a touchy guy – but, I don’t want to pry. He uh, seems to like you though, so, I’ll skip the ah… The _speech_."

  "Speech?"

  Morgan smiled, a rare sight. "They have a place, walls, food, water. Rick’s there, so your friends say."

  Beth chin lifted with a determined air to her. She felt incredibly vindicated. Beth looked back to Daryl, fierce eyes focused on his teary blurs. "Told you all you needed was a little faith." And she pulled Daryl back into a hug, arms wrapped around his neck, face lost between them.

   There was skin and leather and smoke, and she missed this.

   God, she missed him,  _this,_ so much.

**...**

   Daryl was a complete mess, but none of that mattered right now. All that mattered was _her_. She was alive and everything else didn’t seem to matter. He couldn’t wait to get her back. He’d make sure to take her on the back of his bike, as long as it was okay with her. Morgan could ride with Aaron back to Alexandria. He didn’t want to take his eyes or hands off of her, and he wanted to be the one to bring her back. He couldn’t wait to see Maggie’s face when she saw her, Maggie and him had bonded a bit after they thought she had died.

   It felt good to talk to Maggie, it felt good to have some sort of connection with Beth even though she was gone. He knew it was silly, that Maggie was her sister and not her but he still found comfort in talking to Maggie and listening to stories that she had about Beth in the old world. Silly stories that didn’t seem to matter but he held onto them. He held onto _all_ of them.

   “When have ya known me to be nice?” He teased, his smile only growing larger on his lips. He wished he could stay out here for hours and just talk to her, catch up with her but he knew that they needed to head back. The others would want to see her and she’d be taken away from him shortly so she could catch up with Maggie and the group. For now though he held onto this, he held onto this moment because he doubted another one like it would happen anytime soon – if _ever_.

   Daryl felt her thumb stroking over the scar on his hand, tensing up slightly but then he realized there was no way she would know that it was self-inflicted. The way the world was today, they were constantly getting hurt whether it be by others or by accident. She wouldn’t know. He could already see the look that she’d give him, one of _pity_ and that’s the last thing that he wanted to see from her. He felt extremely self-conscious in that moment, her hands had his hair pushed back and he was completely exposed to her right now, that and the fact that Aaron and Morgan were watching them.

   All Daryl's faith had been lost the day he carried her out of Grady, if there was a God how could he allow something like that to happen to someone like Beth? She was one of the only good ones left, and she was nearly _gone_. Faith. A word that triggered something in him, back when the two of them were alone she had told him to have faith and he ducked his head resting it on her shoulder so he could let a few more remaining tears fall without her or the others seeing. His arms going back around her waist as he tugged her close, forehead resting against her shoulder.

   “You just gotta stick around and remind me.” He murmured against her shoulder, his voice barely above a whisper as he was afraid his voice would betray him. Daryl needed a few moments to collect himself before he even thought about going anywhere.


	2. ride back.

  Beth should be the one in tears, cuddling close to Daryl, lost in him, but she isn’t. Not nearly as much as he’s buried in her neck. She knew that she would find him, or _someone_ from her family, and that she’d get back to wherever they were, and things would – _hopefully_ – continue. Life kept going without her, she understood that, but she hoped there was still a space for her. Things changed, people changed, but she’d moved along, too. She’d learned to see things as they really were, and she’d learned to take better care of herself. No more relying on others for safety. The thought of that nearly made her laugh, but it wasn’t the time.

  There would be time to discuss everything, from the candlelit conversation at the funeral home, to Grady, to whatever life he’d had after her… After Grady. She rolled her lips between her teeth, thankful that she’d maintained clarity now. It wasn’t easy, and her heart ached. She wanted to stay wrapped up with Daryl, close and warm and here, but it wasn’t safe. There was a mass of walkers clutching at the gates nearby, and the other two didn’t need to be there for it. No ill wishes towards either; Morgan had been an admirable travel companion, but the other was a stranger to her.

  "You mentioned a place… It’s a settlement?"

  "It’s called Alexandria – it’s homes, all working like they did before. There’s a fair few of us, not including your uh, family. I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you." It seemed that she’d impressed this man, Aaron. He must have become close to Daryl while they’d been apart. These were all details she would pull from Daryl later, when they had a chance to speak. There’d be time; she’d _make_ time. Because no doubt the rest of her family would be excited to see her, alive, and well. Well enough, that is.

  "Alright – we should get goin’, those walkers’ll attract more." Beth set her hand against the back of his head, smiling into his hair. She buried her nose into it, ignoring the texture – it’d never bothered her before, and it hardly mattered now. It all felt like a dream. Beth would more easily accept that. Because this was too _good_ , and she hurt all over. She didn’t want to go, but they’d have to.

  "Hey." Beth whispered, lips ghosting across his ear. "We gotta go."

**...**

  Daryl didn’t want to pull away, he didn’t want this moment to end but he knew it had to, eventually. They couldn’t stay like this forever no matter how badly he wanted to. They had to get back, it wasn’t safe here out in the open and besides–according to that note they got in the car there were some bad people about to show up. People that were desperate enough to set up a trap to catch people, these were people that Daryl didn’t want to meet when he was with Beth. They could take care of them later, him and Aaron could come out again and try to find them – maybe bring others, and not get caught in another _damn_ trap.

 A shiver ran down his spine at the feeling of her lips just barely ghosting across his ear as she spoke, he dismissed it. The archer finally lifted up his head, nodding slowly and moved to wipe at the few remaining tears on his cheeks with the back of his hand. While he was grateful to have her back, part of him had to believe that the timing had happened for a reason. What if she had found them sooner, what if she had to go through what the rest had? Terminus was no place for anyone, especially not Beth. He was glad she wasn’t there. Well she _was,_ but not in a physical sense; it was a hallucination.

  “You ridin’ back with me?” Though it was phrased as a question, the look he gave her said otherwise. He wasn’t about to go riding off on his motorcycle alone, worried about her in the car behind him. No, he wanted her on the back of his bike and to make sure that she got to Alexandria safely and the only way he could do that was if she was with him. He wanted to be the one to take her home, bring her to the others. He could feel Aaron looking at him curiously, as the man had never seen Daryl that affectionate with anyone.

   Daryl ignored Aaron though, he didn’t mean to but he had too much on his mind right now and was feeling a bit overwhelmed. Once they got back and Beth had her reunions with everyone, he’d go off and smoke and try to relax a bit. He had just cried his eyes out in front of her and he still needed to clear his head. Probably get a few more tears out because all of this was real, because she was really _back_ . He’d no longer be haunted by those words that she had said at the shack when they had too much to drink; _You’re gonna miss me so bad when I’m gone Daryl Dixon._

   He probably would never tell her, that but Beth had right.    

**...**

  It was difficult for Beth to acclimatize to Grady, but she had done it. She’d learned to disguise her feelings, and to watch more closely. The place had taught her lessons, and for that she was thankful. Not all of them were worth keeping; her attitude towards men had shifted, as well as leadership roles. She hoped that she could better recognize problematic leaders, but that was the thing – charisma glazed over issues, and you couldn’t be sure. Aaron seemed nice enough, and he had been with Daryl. She trusted those that Daryl trusted.

  The implication was that they had vehicles, and that sounded amazing. She was used to long walks, and she’d never complain, but this was a luxury. She met his eye, quizzical, but she understood. "Yeah, if you’ll let me." The conversation happened between them, privately, and Beth felt absolutely awful for how insular they’d made their reunion. She would make a special effort to speak to Aaron later, to at least speak properly to him. And to Morgan, she could only nod. They’d developed an understanding, but they weren’t _close_. She would protect him, and he would protect her, but their goal had been reached. Whatever the other chose to do was up to them, now.

  It was a trek through the forest to find the vehicles, but she remained close to Daryl. It wasn’t even by her choice, really. He’d attached himself to her side, like he was afraid she’d vanish. The feeling was mutual, and she kept a firm grasp of his hand. They’d held hands before, but never with urgency or for longer than a few moments. This was more than that, and for good reason. It was practical, in keeping together. They emerged by a car, which was sorely tempting, and a bike. She looked to Daryl, and knew she’d stay with him. Screw being closed into a car; the very thought made her skin crawl. Not to mention what he’d said before, that he’d near _demanded_ she ride with him. That suited her just fine.

  "This is gonna be a dumb question, but – no helmets, right?" Beth knew it was a stupid question. She just worried, because of all the dangers that came with motorcycles. Though she had been told that it was cars hitting you that you had to worry about – she didn’t feel particularly dressed for a motorcycle, with frayed jeans and a polo shirt. Her cardigan had been torn to pieces through her time in the forest, lost and useless.

  Beth looked to Morgan and Aaron, who’d climbed wordlessly into the car.

**...**

   Of course he’d let her, that’s all he wanted but he could understand why she’d say that. When the two had been alone together after the fall of the prison he had been horrible to her, quiet–ignored her when she so desperately needed someone to talk to. It took a few weeks and she was able to break down his walls, didn’t matter how quickly he tried to put them back up she would tear them down once more. They had grown _close_ , having a real bonding moment at the moonshine shack and burning it down together after their drunken conversation and silly game of _I have never_.

    His fingers were entangled with hers as they walked through the forest, walking behind Morgan and Aaron back toward the car and his bike. The two ahead were talking, he didn’t hear the entire conversation just bits and pieces about Alexandria and Daryl sort of just tuned them out, his hand giving hers a gentle squeeze. He remembered the first time she had reached for his hand outside the funeral home, just a couple days before he lost her. He shoved the thought aside not wanting to think about the bad, only the _good_.

    He shook his head, he never really thought to look out for a helmet as he was so used to riding without one. Now though, if she’d be riding on his motorcycle more he’d look out for one, grab her one so she could be safe. Usually he drove pretty recklessly down the streets but with her he’d go slower, be safe. He didn’t want anything happening to her and he would make sure that she would get to Alexandria in one piece. His eyes lingered over her for a moment noticing the yellow polo shirt she was wearing, didn’t offer much protection as it was short sleeves.

   “Here – ” He began to say moving to shrug off his jacket along with his vest–the two hadn’t been washed in so long they were practically stuck together and he offered it to her. It would be way too big on her but it was better than just her yellow polo shirt because if something were to happen he’d want her protected from road rash as his jacket had saved his ass quite a few times from tearing up his skin on the road.

   Once he handed the jacket over he watched as Aaron and Morgan got into the car in silence and he moved to get on his bike, kicking the kickstand with the back of his boot as he moved to start it up, turning his head over his shoulder to look over at Beth.

**…**

  Even though Beth had spent the better part of the past hour locked tightly to Daryl’s side, to his hand, this was all still unreal. She wasn’t convinced of it, not with how level her emotions had been. Maybe her dedication to finding her group had stolen all her excitement. Or she was so overwhelmed, she had become _numb_. She just knew that things were good, better than they had been for so, so long.

  Beth had sworn to herself that she’d never ride a motorcycle, _before_ . She’d sworn to a great many things before, like never drinking, or smoking, or _killing_ , but she’d done all those things, and she’d likely have to do them all again. So a trip on a motorcycle was minor compared to all that she had done. Killing was definitely a shift in perspective; sins felt skewed, and small indiscretions became unimportant. It wasn’t a good feeling. Just made everything feel so dumb, and trivial.

  "Hm – oh. It’s so warm though." Beth winced at the weight of it, but accepted it. She slipped it on without much more compliant, because Daryl wasn’t doing it to be sweet. He wasn’t a boyfriend, trying to get her into his jacket like the football boys used to do. This was a matter of protection, and from the asphalt roads, she would need it. Not that she expected to _fall_ . She looked to the car, which had started its engine. The bike daunting, but necessary, and she took the plunge. The smell of sweat, smoke, dirt and leather was all the stronger, but it smelled like _him_ , and that was enough.

  It was a lot like mounting a regular bike, only there was a man on it – so, sort of nothing _like_ a bike. She slipped her arms around his waist, cheek pressed against his back. She’d had to roll the sleeves a little to get her hands out the other side, and it was _way_ too wide. She could fit a second set of her shoulders into it, if she wanted. Daryl was just a big person, though he only _tried_ to be big when he felt intimidated. Otherwise he’d hover, small and quiet, out of your sight.

  But he’d always be there. She knew that. She’d had _faith_ in that, and she was here now, a roar of an engine, and his heartbeat quicker than it should be, but maybe that was _her_ . Maybe all this was her, imagining things, fabricating something that wasn’t there. Except he was here, and the wind was wrapped around them, and she was going to see her family. She’d see everyone, and it’d be _great_ , and it’d be everything it should have been, before she’d _fixed_ Grady.

  Before she’d _died_.

**…**

   All this felt like it was too good to be true, like he was going to wake up any moment and be back at Alexandria with the others in the living room, Beth still _gone_ . That didn’t happen though, all of this was real and it was a lot to take in. He still needed to process, even though the two had spent nearly a half hour together he still had a lot to wrap his head around. He had carried her body out of Grady, she had _died_ . He wasn’t sure what had happened or who had saved her but he figured whoever it was he owed them a thank you, he owed them _everything_.

   “I know–it ain’t to keep ya warm, ‘s to protect ya.” He told her, often times he got warm wearing his jacket but he’d rather be warm on his bike then have road rash all up and down his arms. Road rash hurt, he had experienced it before the world fell apart when he was young and dumb riding in only a t-shirt. Never again, he told himself–he’d always protect his skin. Except for right now, Beth’s skin was far more important than his own.

   When he had looked back at her a small grin tugged on his lips as he looked at how big the jacket and vest here on her, they hung way past her hips and the shoulders were way too big on her. He nearly laughed but he didn’t, felt strange to laugh–in fact he couldn’t even remember the last time that he had laughed. Probably the moonshine shack or the funeral home, but when she was gone it didn’t even feel right to smile. He felt _nothing,_ just pain.

   Once she got on the bike he put his hands on the handles, he visibly tensed as he felt her arms wrapping around his waist, cheek pressed against his back–the hair on the back of his neck stood up as he moved to clear his throat. Aaron was waiting for him to go first and he snapped back into reality and began to drive out toward the main road, going much slower than he normally would and sticking to the speed limit–as if that mattered anymore. He just wanted to make sure she was safe, he didn’t want to do anything reckless.

    It was about a ten minute drive if that before he got to the gates moving to slow the bike to a stop, nodding to Spencer who was on watch. He almost wished it was one of his people out there, to see the look on their faces when they saw the blonde on the back of his bike. They were probably scattered about the town though. Rick and Michonne were constables and constantly patrolling and he moved to park his bike out by the house knowing there was at least some of their family inside. Knowing that now she’d be off, hugging everyone and catching up with everyone and he’d be in the shadows just watching her making sure she was alright.  

 It was strange how quiet it was, of course he wasn’t expecting the group to come rushing out of their houses but they probably hadn’t seen her. The sun was just starting to set and he moved to gently tap his hand on her thigh so she could get off and the two of them could go looking for the others. He tensed up though when he heard a gunshot, loud ringing through the streets and screaming. What the hell was going on? The first thing he assumed that was someone had broken in, regardless something had happened and they needed to see what the hell was going on.

**…**

  The bike wasn’t nearly as bad as Beth had thought it would be. They always looked so intimidating, when she saw people riding them. They looked so exposed, and what if you fell? If she was driving it, it might be a different story. But this was Daryl, who was _born_ to be on a bike. He’d had one for as long as she’d known him, to the prison, but it’d been lost. She realized now how nice it was to see him in his element again. And that was ignoring the fact he’d opted to protect her, which she could only accept. Because she was nervous, and he seemed confident, and she didn’t want to argue over a jacket. Or his vest.

  The ride felt like it was over nearly as quickly as it’d begun, and she was _terrified_ , but it was fun. She may even ask to try this again, and that sent her smiling. Because there was so much they had to catch up on, and so much she had to tell him. She needed to ask him about the funeral home, because a nagging little voice reminded her that he’d been shouting after her. She needed to know if that’d really happened, or if she’d only told herself that as a coping mechanism. But that was for later, tucked away with so many other thoughts.

  For now, Beth had to see Maggie, and Rick, and Glenn, and the names all ran off from her because she wanted to see everyone. Was Carol here? Noah? Who _was_ here? Who’d made it? She didn’t know. Her throat tightened, and she felt ill, because all she knew for certain was that _Daryl_ was here. Daryl would have told her, if someone hadn’t made it. Wouldn’t he? She clung to that, as she had clung to him, her hands mixed up in his shirt, skimming skin once or twice by mistake. She’d not thought about it, as she was too wrapped up in the rush of air.

  But it was over, and Alexandria was spread before her. She looked around for Morgan, to see him smiling at her. She smiled back, dizzy from the adrenaline. She was beyond excited, and stuck close to Daryl. The tap at her thigh was enough to prompt her off the bike, her face red from the whip of air. She remained close, like before, but there was – no. "What was that?" She knew. She knew exactly what that was. It was a gunshot, and screams, and she followed Daryl, and Aaron, and Morgan, and there was the smell of blood, and weeps filled the air, and she was choking on it. The smell alone was enough to send her reeling, too similar, too close to home.  
  Rick stared, and she stared back, and it was an absolute flurry. People were by a body, and there was so many faces she didn’t recognize, and so few that she did, but she saw Maggie, and Glenn, and that was enough. She was brought into tearful hugs, while people wept over the body of a man she’d never met, and a woman sobbing over him – she didn’t want this. She wanted to see her family, she wanted to see them safe, and whole, and sound, but this wasn’t it. And between the hugs, from Carol, and Michonne, she lost Daryl. All she had was the smell of sweat, smoke and leather, clinging to her hair and skin.


	3. what was yours.

  The dusk darkened quickly to night, till it was pitch black outside. There were only the stars, the moon, and the tiny squares of light from candles. There had been a lot to explain, and a seemingly endless tally of names, of all the people who had died. Beth hadn’t known for sure what had happened to  _ anyone _ after the prison, save for Daryl. There was the snippet provided at Grady, the few faces in the hallway, but she had been so singularly minded, it hadn’t occurred to her. Her life hadn’t registered as worth more than the lives of all those she would protect. You would always be selfish in life, it was a matter of deciding what to be selfish about.

  What had happened at Grady had to be done. The nature of their separation came into question, with questions about how they’d both made it to the hospital, and where they’d been. The funeral home, Terminus, Grady, all of it was linked together like strings along pins, tying together a series of events.

  Both had more questions than answers, and ultimately Beth was satisfied. She had caught her sister up on Grady, and her survival. She explained Dr. Edwards, passingly, enough for Maggie to  _ understand _ , but none of the darker details. Nothing about Gorman, and only a hint at the system Dawn had in place. There was an understanding that she’d had to survive, and done whatever she’d needed to, to ensure that. Maggie hadn’t pried.

  The main focus of their evening reunited had been on Alexandria, and what it meant for everyone and  _ everything _ . Runs were consistent, food was stable, and they had weapons. Things hadn’t been good for a long while, but they were, now. Even if it didn’t seem like it at face value, given what Beth had come to witness. There was more to the story, and it’d been an accident; the first death had been. The second was a necessary precaution, against a man who’d otherwise tear them apart.

  Even with all the questions, and the attention, tonight wasn’t about her. This place could never  _ be  _ about her. Her return had always been a thing of happiness in her imagination. Reality had refused to match her expectations. She was happy,  _ so _ happy, but what had happened with Rick, she hadn’t expected it. It gnawed at her mind, with her doubts firmly in place. The time at Grady had glossed over her family, and the reality was, she’d been away from everyone here for months. At least half a year, if not more.

  It was likely they’d all done and seen things to harden them, like she had. It was a question of how much had changed, and if she’d changed enough to match. The lights began to dim, and the tension dipped. Her family had all taken to sharing two rooms. Sleeping bags were strewn around, with snores spread out, but no Daryl. She’d not seen him for a few hours, and she’d still had his jacket. Beth slipped away once everyone was definitely asleep, to avoid accounting for her exit. She didn’t want to explain herself to people.

   And so Beth slipped her boots back on, and took to the street. She didn’t know this place. All she could hear was the echo of a gunshot and screams, and hint of blood. It couldn’t still be in the air, or in her nose, but it was a ghost around her, around this  _ safe place _ . Grady had been safe, too. She followed it, this ghost, with a frown on her lips. It led her back to the scene, the two spatters of blood at different points of the courtyard. There was the remnants of a fire, and there was Daryl. He was lingering, a penance for something he couldn’t have prevented.

  Beth didn’t need to ask to know this. She knew him. That was enough.

  "Hey. I have your jacket still."

…

  It kept playing behind closed eyelids, like a nightmare he didn’t have to sleep to see. The blood, the bodies, Rick,  _ Beth _ .

 They had arrived at Alexandria, and it wasn’t what he’d anticipated. It was quiet, only until there was the crack of a gunshot, and the screams that followed. Daryl took off down the street with the others at his back. He turned the corner and stopped in his tracks. The group was huddled around two bodies, and Rick stood there with blood spattered all over his face. What the Hell had happened?

  Daryl recognized Pete and Reg, dead and bloody. One had been shot, one had been sliced. It didn’t hit him like it should. He couldn’t help but feel  _ relieved, _ in that it wasn’t any of  _ his _ people. Yeah, Alexandria was their home now, but he’d not consider these people to his their family because of it. It didn’t work like that. Family went through everything together, and he hadn’t known these people for that long. He hadn’t allowed himself to open up to anyone here, either. Aside from Aaron,who was a good man, the rest were acquaintances, faces that weren’t awful, but weren’t special, either.

  A bunch of different emotions ran through him at the sobs, the blood, and the look on Rick’s face. One, the only one that stood out from the rest, was guilt. Because he was so excited to bring Beth here, to have her within the walls, safe and home. Because to have Beth here would make Alexandria home, and her time here was immediately tainted with blood and death. Not only that, but Rick seemed to have lost his damn mind. Daryl didn’t know what the Hell he was going to do about that. Sometimes Rick inched closer and closer to the edge. He’d teeter over it, but he usually came back. Daryl hoped this time was no different. 

  In retrospect, of course he’d not expected a big parade to welcome back Beth. He at least hoped that it would be a happy memory, where everyone would come out of the house to greet her. They’d fight to hug her, and talk softly to her, and treat her like she should be treated. They’d all see how she’d fought, and see how she’d grown in the past couple months.  _ In the past year _ , he thought. No one but him had seen her since the prison.

  Because Grady didn’t count. That time in the hallway before she’d been shot didn’t count. His hand briefly at her shoulder may as well not have happened, for all he could remember of it. And when Daryl had carried her body out of Grady, that sure as fuck didn’t count either. He still heard the screams from Maggie when he brought her out, and it was in his nightmares. Which brought him back to here, this courtyard, where he felt like he’d shifted from dream to nightmare. 

   Rick had stared at Beth. The man didn’t even say a damn thing, his hands trembling as he combed his bloody fingers through his hair. He tried and failed to process everything, and the group could see him coming apart at the seams. Daryl wanted to ask what had happened, but everyone was in tears, or in shock, or both. People had simply left. Abraham and Eugene spoke about burying the bodies of the men. Daryl didn’t budge from his spot though. He had no intention to leave. He only looked on, and saw Maggie and Glenn sweep forward.

  Glenn and Maggie had lead her away from the chaos and for that he was grateful. They could show her around their home. Maybe tomorrow, when the streets were clean from the blood, they could take her on a tour of the place. They could show her that this place was good. They could prove to her that she had just come at a bad time, that it wasn’t always like this.

  But then again, who knows? Maybe this was a turning point. Maybe Alexandria had always been this awful thing, waiting to bare its fangs. He’d expected as much, as soon as he had arrived. They’d not lost their own to this town yet, but he knew it’d happen. The twist of anger and apprehension formed, at the thought of one of their own buried by the flowerbed. Abraham and Eugene had long since taken the bodies, and Daryl was left alone with the bloodstained pavement on the floor below him, one in splashes, one in a blast. A shot, and a slice, two men, dead .It didn’t twist him up the way it should.

  Daryl stared at the spot, morbidly curious if he’d ever feel the upset. Because it wasn’t there. Not for the men; just for what may happen to those close to him. He hadn’t realized how long he had been out there. All he could hear was chirruping crickets, and eventually, a small voice. It broke him out of his trance, in a way that didn’t often happen. He turned over his shoulder to see the blonde standing there in his jacket still, her fingertips hidden in the sleeves. The sight of her was enough to blank his mind. She was standing there, and that was enough of a reminder. Her face alone was enough prove there was still good out there.

  Beth had come to return his jacket; the one he’d given her. The temperature didn’t matter to him, not as much as her comfort mattered.

  “’S cold. Y’can borrow it if ya want.”

  The sun had gone down and the air was chilly. Daryl idly thought that maybe the chill was from the two men who had died earlier. It all circled back to them, the two men he hadn’t particularly cared for. But he should have cared. He should have been here. What if he had cut the reunion with Beth short? What if they’d got here in time to prevent all of this?

…

Beth wanted to see Daryl. It wasn’t so strange she thought, given how close they had become in the months they had spent alone together. When he hadn’t come to the house to rest like everyone else, she’d had an inkling. And to her credit, it’d been correct. Beth knew that she had been away from him for what felt like years, but she could still pick his movements, or lack thereof. She didn’t know Alexandria, or the people, but she had glanced enough. Rick was dealt with, and everyone was rattled, but Daryl was here. It wasn’t a surprise at all. The man had a bad habit of putting himself into situations that acted as penance for things he couldn’t fix. Like the governor, and how had clung to that failure; how he still clung to it. She knew he must, even if he’d deny it.

“Oh. Sure.”

Beth hadn’t anticipated that, the offer for her borrow the jacket. She had come out to check on him, and expected to be turned away. Daryl had kept to this spot for a reason, and Beth felt that she understood. They had arrived back, and they’d been too late. The gunshot had sounded only moments into their return, and she felt like a bad omen. Her body was cursed, and people would die whenever she arrived; that’s how it felt. Instead of voicing her selfish opinion, she approached him, arms folded across her chest. The jacket squeaked in response, faintly. It still smelled like him. She’d gotten used to it, but it was there.

”It’s nice here.” Beth blinked once before she caught herself. “The walls, the houses. That part. Not _ here _ , here.”

The clarification hurt more than it helped, but she said it all the same. Aaron had been proud of this place, and whatever happened, it had happened for a reason. A shitty reason, sure, and she had questions, but her family was alive, mostly. There had been so many lost at the prison, so many children that she’d helped care for. Beyond them, it hurt that Tyreese was gone, and Noah, and the girls, but so many had been lost. She milled by Daryl, nowhere near tired. At least not the kind of tired where she could sleep.

All Beth wanted was to resolve a conversation they had started months ago. It sat in her chest like a sandbag, pulling at her heart, but it refused to be lifted. If anything, his being with her drew her down, into herself, afraid to say the wrong thing. She had only just gotten him back. She burrowed further into the comfort of the leather. It felt silly now, how they’d been wrapped so closely together only a few hours ago, and now she was afraid to bridge the gap. A lot could change in a few months, but even more could also change in a few hours. She hung by him, quiet, expectant. She wanted to help, but she’d already failed at that.

...

    Daryl wanted her to wear the jacket. Not just because it was cool, and that he wanted her to stay warm, but because he  _ liked _ the way she looked in it. Her head, poking out from the folds of familiar leather, the way she pinched it up to her cheeks, how her hair cut near-white shapes out of the black. He knew it wouldn’t be long until Maggie could find her some fresh clothes, not in this town. She’d probably go out tomorrow and collect some clean clothes for Beth, so she could change out of her bloodied clothes.

  Tomorrow he could get his jacket back, but he didn’t care if she kept it for longer. He knew it was bittersweet, but he liked her having something that was his. He still held onto the knife that had been hers. The sheath was strapped to his hip, and he wore it at all times. He knew he should offer to give it back, but he didn’t want to. It was dumb, and he was dumb, but he liked the weight of it, and what it represented. Maybe he wouldn’t need it now, with her back.

    “It is nice here.” Daryl’s voice was low, uncertain. Even though tonight hadn’t been  _ nice _ , this place was usually safe.

  When they had first arrived, all he could think about was how Beth would thrive in a place like this. He could barely bring himself inside, when he knew that she wouldn’t be inside. It’d been damn hard. He knew that she’d never get to experience this place, having electricity, clothes to change between, books, showers, all these other things from the old world. The things that Daryl knew she missed.

  Daryl had been wrong though. Here she was, right here in front of him,  _ alive _ . She had defied all odds and survived a gunshot wound to the head. She had found her way back home, back to  _ him _ , and proved him wrong again. He’d welcome that everytime, happy to be wrong if it meant that she was  _ right _ .

    Daryl figured that Beth had been brought to speed on everyone that they had lost since she had been gone. It could have been worse – they could have lost more people. It still hurt to think about. Each loss hit him like a blow to the guts, another failure to tack onto his ever growing list of fuck-ups.

  The death that hit him the hardest was Noah. Beth had sacrificed herself for him, even if it was a gesture against Grady, she’d  _ died  _ for that boy to have a chance. And then he was gone. It felt like her death was for nothing.

  None of that mattered now. Beth was alive, with him, breathing and wrapped up in his jacket. Noah was still gone and would never know that she survived. It was a constant shift, with no one ever really happy. People would always end up dead, and it’d always be because of something stupid he had done. If you traced things far back enough, it was his fault. Every death sat on his shoulders, because ultimately, he’d had a hand in it.

    Daryl eyed her curiously, he knew something was running through her head, and that she hadn’t just come out here to return his jacket.

  “Ya come out here just to return that?” He furrowed his brow, to have a better shot at seeing her in the dark. She should be inside with the others, wrapped up in a sleeping bag, eating, laughing, catching up with everyone. Beth shouldn’t be out here, talking to him by the bloodstains. He didn’t deserve her company. He deserved to be alone, to pick up the pieces and put them together. Maybe the picture they made would piece together what had happened tonight when he was gone, the gunshot, the shouts. He needed to reflect on how he’d been just moments too late from this very spot, and could have averted some tragedy.

  Daryl would go back in, eventually, but right now he couldn’t bring himself to go inside. He didn’t want to see Rick unravelling. Even worse, he didn’t want to see Beth slipping away from him, back to those who could be sweet and soft like she deserved.

....

  Beth had kept quiet when she saw Rick in the courtyard, and Rick returned that in kind. Empty air hung between the group, and nothing she could bring herself to say. Rick had always been strong, he had been their leader, but he had wavered. At the prison, she saw his facets. She cared for Judith, and had to pass by him, and some days he was smiling and jovial, sweet and a little handsome. Other days, Rick wasn’t really  _ there _ .

  And that was the face Beth saw that night, blood-soaked and bruised, lost to the world. It was a good thing Maggie and Glenn had taken her away, as she’d not expected that. It wouldn’t be like that forever; she’d speak to him, because she wanted to, but later. When he was with them, properly, not twitching and vacant.

  There were new people, too, people she’d never seen. They regarded her with shock, so  _ they _ seen her. Limp, and dangling from Daryl’s arms. And their faces were familiar, passingly so, like she knew she’d seen them before, maybe. She smoothed a hand through her hair, heel of her hand catching her forehead. She was overwhelmed with so many things to learn, and catch up on, but then there was Daryl. The shadows had grown long, and the square was dark. There was a blood spatter in two places, and they might stay there. She hoped not, but it was a trivial thing,

  "Yeah, I did." Beth approached, hands attached by the tips of her fingers. She fidgeted with the jacket, eyes down-turned, unsure what to make of the question. If she found him to return it, she would have found  _ him _ . So Beth stood, eyes set on him, unsure. They’d locked into an embrace, cried together, wrapped close,  _ sobbing _ , and now there was this – block. This  _ thing _ that felt like it was there, whether it was from the greeting they received, or something else. Beth looked Daryl over, hands still fidgeting just outside the sleeves of his jacket.

  The vest with the wings, the one that felt apt now that she’d died and come back. It felt sort of funny to think about, a resurrection… Because that’s how everyone acted. But the truth was, she’d not stopped living. She’d existed outside of them, while they struggled and suffered to find this place. She had been at Grady, lost, abandoned, but she had found them again. "I just wanted to say thank you, for bringing me back here, and…" Beth gestured, to the houses, to as much as she could encompass in one movement of her arm. "It’s a little scary, and I don’t know near enough people, but I have you, and our family, so… It’ll just take time, right? But it’s good here… Like you said?" 

  Two men had died tonight, and she wanted so badly for this place to be good, but she couldn’t settle. She wouldn’t blindly accept whatever they were offered, and if Daryl had any doubts about this place, they could go. But she didn’t figure that was how things were; Aaron had seemed genuinely proud of the place, and the attack was… Beth didn’t know what it was. But she hoped it wasn’t a step towards more death. She was weary, and wanted just a little bit of good. She came to rest by Daryl, but didn’t bridge the gap. Just close, like before, but not suffocatingly so. 

 

...

 

    It was strange to think that just a few hours ago the two were wrapped in each others’ arms and he was sobbing and barely able to keep standing. Now there was a couple feet of distance between them and while he thought about closing the gap between them he didn’t budge from his spot. There was so much that he wanted to say but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words, none of it felt like it mattered now, he wanted to tell her all about Alexandria but the place had been tainted by the two  _ murders _ that had happened that night. 

    “You don’t gotta thank me.” He said quietly, he felt like he didn’t deserve any thanks. After all the reason she was taken in the first place was his own fault. He was supposed to protect her, he was supposed to keep her out of harm's way and what did he do? He let a small herd of walkers into the funeral home and then told her to wait outside for him. All that happened because he was so eager to run away from his feelings. Because he let her get too close. He couldn’t let himself make that kind of mistake again. 

    He nodded slowly as she asked if it was good here, it was as good as they were going to ever get. It was almost as good as the prison,  _ almost _ . The people here seemed to be alright but he didn’t know them well enough to make that kind of judgement, “These people just don’t know how to fight.” He said, and that was the part that worried him. If it ever came down to a battle the only one that could really fight their way out of anything was Aaron. The rest seemed pretty useless, they needed to learn how to fight if they were going to keep this place standing. 

    He raised his gaze from the blood stained pavement to look over at her, noticing how she moved  _ closer _ . Guilt flooded in the pit of his stomach, every time he looked at her he thought about how he carried her body out of Grady and put her in the back of the trunk. How they were overrun and Rick pulled him out saying they had to go. He wondered if she was conscious through that, if she could hear what was going on. There was so many questions that he had but he stayed silent for the moment just looking her over and he couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing out here after everything he had did wrong. 

    The archer didn’t deserve her company. She should be off with Glenn and Maggie. People that deserved a bit of good in their lives, he didn’t deserve  _ any _ of it. He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he finally tore his gaze away from her, feeling mixed emotions every time he looked at her. He cleared his throat after a moment of silence. He decided to change the subject, because talking about anything from the past would have hurt too much.

  “Judith’s gotten so big, huh. Bet she missed ya. Everyone has.”

...

  Something was Up. Perhaps it went without saying, because there was so much that could go wrong in this new world, but this wasn’t the usual kind of Up. This was a whole new kind, where Beth couldn’t even begin to explain what exactly was Up. She milled by his side, arms crossed, eyes turned to the sky, but free and thankful. There was walls, food, and her family. By all accounts, she should be settled. But the reunion brought on stories, and memories, and she didn’t want to spend her whole evening as a pincushion, her memories like needles being pushed and pulled by her curious family.

  No doubt Beth would break and tell them all about Grady, but for tonight, she had simply wanted to go  _ back _ to what everything had been before. But that was impossible. Rick had killed a man, who’d killed another man, and it wasn’t the place she had been promised. But she couldn’t leave. There was nothing out there for her, her family was all here; her family had executed one of those murders. And she knew that her people  _ killed _ other people; that wasn’t a fact to be contested. But it was so unexpected.

  “I  _ know _ don’t gotta do anything, Daryl. I do what I want to. And I wanted to thank you, so I did, so you can just  _ take  _ it.” Beth said this with an edge she hadn’t meant. She remained by his side, not approaching any further because before? It’d been a surprise to see her. The flutters in her chest and stomach would have happened if anyone had turned up, if it’d been _ Rick _ or Carol or anyone from her family. That’s what she told herself, to lessen what had happened. Her perspective was skewed, warped by all the times she had replayed and rewound the moments. It was all cast in a rose-tinted light, warm and glowing and ultimately fabricated.

  That was what she told herself anyway, rugged up in worn leather and smoke. Beth knew better than that..She shrugged the jacket closer and tighter to her cheeks, nestled deep within it, like it was a proper hug instead of this empty jacket that she was swimming in. Because Daryl had a way of making himself understood without words, and she didn’t want to impress upon his space. What had happened here had been important in the worst way. She perked up a touch when he mentioned Judith, and she couldn’t hold back her excitement.

  “I saw! Yeah, she’s, _ God _ , she’s so  _ big _ , isn’t she? She’s got her mom’s eyes, too. I don’t know if she – would…” Beth gestured to her face, lips drawn between her teeth. She’d cared for that girl as good as her own for her time at the prison, and she felt the same. Beth knew Judith wasn’t hers, and she wouldn’t be so foolish to claim her as her own, but it hurt to lose her, as much as anyone else. She had worried, especially about the little blue-eyed baby with chubby cheeks and little hands – Beth buried her face in her hands, not quite in tears, but just  _ overwhelmed. _ .

  “It’s weird, being here. With everyone. Things have changed. I know they have. I’m trying t’catch up, and it’s so hard.” Beth spoke between the gaps of her palms, only to slide her hands down her cheeks to look at him. “But I’m happy. I am. S’just… Different. Y’know?”

...

    He looked a bit surprised at her words, chewing on the inside of his cheek a bit anxiously as he hadn’t meant to offend her, he felt like he didn’t know how to act around her anymore. Before when they were on her own things were simple, they worked in unison and towards the end that’s when things got– _ different _ . Different was the best way that he could describe it because the two of them had grown close. It wasn’t the kind of close that he had grown with Carol. With Carol it felt like a bond you get with a sibling, it was a sort of bond he felt with Merle. 

     His bond with Beth was different, he couldn’t even begin to explain it but it wasn’t like the type of bond he had with Merle and Carol. It was more, it was  _ so _ much more. Whenever she was around he felt his heart racing in his chest and anytime she looked at him he felt the blush in his cheeks pick up. It was strange, he wasn’t sure what to think about all of it. He had wanted to do things to impress her, setting up that lunch for the two of them in the funeral home and then carried her inside the house because she was hurt. She could walk, but he had grown so anxious wanting her to see the surprise that he  _ carried _ her inside. 

    All that seemed like a lifetime ago, he remembered the look on her face when the two of them were seated across from one another at the table eating pigs feet and drinking flat soda. When she asked him what changed his mind and he finally gave her an answer, it was like pulling teeth to get anything out of him. He saw the look on her face when she had realized that it had been  _ her _ to change his mind. It was a look of complete surprise and he knew what was coming next, he all but admitted that he was feeling  _ something _ for her and she had been surprised. 

    He didn’t even know what he was admitting but he decided it was something that she needed to know and that was a mistake. Instead of sitting around waiting for the rejection to come he quickly scurried to his feet to get the door, to get what he thought was the dog. Instead that’s the night that everything changed, the night he let all those walkers in. 

   A small smile tugged on his lips as he had successfully changed the subject to talk about the adorable toddler they had on their hands rather than feelings. She was growing so much everyday he had just went on a run the other day because she was nearly popping out of her clothes, he couldn’t believe how much she had grown before his own eyes. The smile then faded from his lips as he saw that she was upset, the last thing he wanted to do was upset her and he took a step forward wanting to comfort her. He awkwardly placed his large hand on her shoulder giving it a gentle squeeze.

     “You only just got here.” It would take some time to settle in, he knew that. He nodded slowly, as he understood. When he had first got here, it took him longer than everyone else to settle in.  _ Hell _ , he still wasn’t completely settled in. “I get it. ’S a lot to take in, reminds me of the old world. Sometimes it feels weird bein’ in here.” Now that she was back maybe things wouldn’t be so weird. But Daryl couldn't say that. Not out loud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to length, this is cut about midway though a conversation, so apologies for the cliffhanger -- I tried to cut it in the least pivotal part, but that was hard. The next part will be up shortly.


	4. shadows and bloodstains.

  Beth has had friends before. Some were closer than others, sure, and she only a few good friends, but she knew the ins and outs of it. With friends, you would want to spend time with them, and listen to their thoughts, and get them little gifts when you wanted to surprise them, and so she was familiar with the concept of friendship.

  The problem was, and remained, that Daryl didn’t fit into that definition anymore. Beth liked to see him happy, and liked to hug him, and that was the way you were with friends. Except went beyond that now. There was this spur to push on, to linger in the hug, like she had earlier. Because of that she kept her distance, afraid of annoying him.

  Something had changed months ago, and it might have been one-sided. It had happened before, the dull ache of joy you got when that one person looked your way, or they said you looked nice. They’d not even realize they had that effect on you, and that was okay. You would make it known, or never say a word. No matter what way it went, it’d be dealt with in time.

  If you confessed, it could go any number of ways, but with Daryl? She didn’t know if this was a mixed up feeling from Grady, for her want of her life back. What they had shared at the funeral home, however brief, had gotten her through all of it. It kept her tromping through the forest, resolute on her friends and family. Their time together also showed her how nice it would be to live with him, in a little white house. It had been the kind she’d always pictured herself in, when she was old enough to buy it.

  Alexandria was like that, too. There were picturesque homes, all neat and lined up nicely. She had always wanted to live in an array of places, in the city, in the suburbs, for the experience of it. She got that wish, but not the way she’d expected it. Her attention shifted around the homes, as she wondered if the people here had owned them before, or if they’d claimed them as their own.

  Beth wondered if Alexandria had a system in place, like Grady. Her hands remained by her neck, fingertips set at her jawline. She was at least breathing easier now, having experienced a mild panic attack – she couldn’t place what had brought it on, but she’d had them on and off since she’d awoken, and even before the world had changed.

  The hand at her shoulder made her knees want to give way, but she remained strong. She looked to it, then to Daryl, her eyes sharply focused in the darkness. She hadn’t expected him to reach out. He’d never been physical, not unless it was a dire situation, or  _ rougher _ – but it wasn’t so out of character, as time elapsed. They had been close, she reminded herself. She hadn’t imagined their reunion.

  “I don’t know if I can go back to that – to how it was.”

  Beth was afraid, of how much she had done, of what she had to do to keep going. There was still murder here, and it was far from perfect. But she wasn’t the soft girl she had been before, clung to Lori’s side, tucked by Carol. She didn’t know if she could be there for Judith like she had been, or if she could sing without a care.

  Beth must be broken. She should be happy, her insides had seized up. There was lingering fear, and she checked every corner three times before she’d turn. There was something in the air unsettled her, like she was waiting for it all to fall apart, and she felt awful for it.

  Why couldn’t she just be happy?

  Beth stepped closer, face pressed into his shoulder, cheek against his shirt, because this was the only thing that made sense. She would learn about why Tyreese had died, why Noah had died, why Bob had died, why the girls had died, why there was so much  _ death _ , but she was still here.

  Why had  _ she _ survived?

  The warmth and solidarity from Daryl was enough to even out her mind. She wanted to relax, but it’d been months since she’d felt anything close to that. It’d been by his hand then, too. Maybe that was why she had sought him out, and kept his jacket on, and started to piece together the why of it all.

...

    Daryl wasn’t sure what she had meant. He could have interpreted what she had said and twisted it in any way he wanted. He assumed that she meant what it was like at the prison, back when times were much simpler. Before the governor of course, when their biggest concern was just going out on runs and finding food, everyone had their own space and people were  _ happy. _

  The way the world was now, nothing lasted. Daryl had been naive to think they could have stayed like that, maybe forever. You got a glimpse of happiness _ , _ and then it was ripped from you. All you were left with was a raw spot where the happiness used to be. It wasn’t even an inverse, a spot of sadness; it was an exposed nerve, painful and constant.

   Daryl wondered if the happiness was worth it. Maybe he would have been better off pushing people away and not allowing himself any happiness because when it was ripped away from him all he felt was  _ pain _ . It was torture for him when he thought Beth had died. He didn’t want to be alive anymore. He didn’t want to exist anywhere that she hadn’t.

  Before he found Grady, he had hope that she was out there. Either on her own, or that she had found another group, but that she had survived. That was lost as he carried her out of Grady. He had held her lifeless body to his chest, and all that hope disappeared.

  It was left behind in that trunk, bled out and cold.

  “We can go back.” They had to bring back the hope that eventually that things could return to what they were like before; that they could make this place work. At least until it no longer did, and then they’d go onto the next place. Because there would be more places like this, though maybe not as nice, they were out there.

  If Beth hadn’t been here, his answer would be different. He wouldn’t care about going back to the way things were. He wouldn’t care about survival, or this picket fence lifestyle. He sure as hell wouldn’t give a  _ damn _ about any of it. But Beth had given him hope when he had lost all of his, so why couldn’t he return the favor now.

  It seemed to him that she needed some light, and he prayed that he would be able to help her.

    Daryl tensed as she stepped closer to him. He felt that twisting feeling in the pit of his stomach, that spurred him onto formless movements, the idea of  _ closer _ . He didn’t know what the feeling was that punched at his guts every time she was close.

  That was a lie.

  Daryl knew very damn well what the feeling was. What he didn’t know was why he felt it around her.

  They weren’t lovers, they weren’t that kind of close. That confusion only morphed into annoyance, because he couldn’t ask her about it. He couldn’t look her in the eye and ask her why she made his skin feel like fire, and his heart pound quicker. Because it wasn’t her fault he’d twisted this good thing into something perverse, her kindness into guilty comfort.

  Daryl was too damn awkward to ask her what the hell they _ were, _ because he had the answer set in his mind. They were nothing. At most, they were just friends – just like she was friends with Rick and Glenn. That’s it, nothing more.

  So why did he get this strange feeling every time that she was around? It didn’t matter that every time he touched her it felt like his heart was going to leap out of his chest. Because it wasn’t for  _ her _ . It was all his selfish, nasty self who’d made it hurt.

   Daryl shoved the thought away and looked down to her. Beth had her face pressed into his shoulder, which caused an uncomfortable flush of red to rise up his neck and to his cheeks. He was grateful that it was dark out, though she wasn’t looking up at him anyway.

  Then the questions started. Should he wrap them around her? Should he keep them by his sides? He felt awkward with the latter, so he reached forward to rest his hands against her forearms. It wasn’t quite a hug but he was  _ trying _ . 

   Normally Daryl was eager to pull away from contact with others, but like their hug in the woods, he stayed. He remained close to her, his feet firmly planted on the pavement. He would be here for her as long as she needed. It took a push, but he willed himself to move his hands further. He wrapped his arms around her, loose and as gentle as his strength could allow. It only took a few moments for him to do this, but each movement took such force on his part.

  It felt good to feel wanted – even if he was only a warm body for her to find solace in.

  This was  _ Beth,  _ and she needed someone.

  But all she had was him.

…

  Beth was always seen as happy. It was a thing that people told her, that she was a light, or hope, or that she gave them faith. It didn’t register for her, as she only saw bones and skin, blood and flesh. She was a person, with problems, and a pang inside her where a light may have once been.

   It was this dull pang of how things shouldn’t have happened. How people had been lost, and she hadn’t been there to help, if she could even help at all. Her sister was alive, and Judith, and there were others she was thankful for, but it only reminded her of all that they’d had before.

  Beth held it together after her suicide attempt at the farm out of guilt, and out of fear. She didn’t want to upset her family a second time, because that was what everyone had become. She felt selfish for any sadness, and personally responsible if others came down because of her.

  The return to everyone had overwhelmed her. Where she expected to feel unlimited joy, she’d only felt disquiet. A fear rose within her, that she had changed too much. She had killed, she had suffered, she had been assaulted in every sense of the word, and none of it she could be explained.

  It’d be too much for her family, and people would react to her like they had at the farm. They’d baby her, or they wouldn’t care at all. Beth just wanted to move on, to draw up a front and hide behind it. Because feelings faded, whether good or bad, everything left you eventually.

  Daryl, she could trust.

  There was something uniquely forgiving in his quiet. It wasn’t judgement that kept him from speaking. Sure, he definitely judged her, but that was how he worked. Though Beth couldn’t see his tangents, he might think she was a spoiled, being upset about a new home, but he’d not say as much. Not without provocation.

  Today had been like a birthday. You’re excited leading up to it, sure you’ll get there, determined, and you’re so ready to celebrate. Maybe you hype it a touch too much, or you expect too much, and then the day arrived. It’s not quite what you expected. It’s not bad, but it’s not good. It’s nothing like you picture.

  There was all the good things, her friends, her  _ family _ , but there was an ebbing sense of morbidity to it. It dawned on her how many had been lost at the fall of the prison, and how many continued to fall. And the tone of the day shifted when Rick had stared at her, bloodied face with empty eyes. In the hours that passed, she had thought over her time away, and what it meant.

  Things weren’t where she expected them to be, and she couldn’t explain why, but it was just not  _ right _ .

  The hug from Daryl helped.

  Beth would have thought after so many hugs she’d be sick of it, but she wasn’t. It’d been months since she’d had anyone close to her, and she was a creature of affection. She loved having others close, and she thrived in kindness. She’d had to toughen up, and that was fine, but she knew what she liked. Her face remained pressed against his chest, to center herself. Because she didn’t want to be ungrateful, and she didn’t know why her mood had taken such a sour turn.

  While Beth wanted to remain like this with Daryl. She knew this was another selfish thing to demand of him. She couldn’t cling to Daryl, and she didn’t want to  _ annoy _ him. Except he shifted, drew her in closer, and she thought that maybe this was okay. Beth kept her arms fixed around his chest, fingers nervously working over the back of his shirt.

  “I was thinking that, my dad? That he would have liked it here. Sure it’s a bit too city for him, but he’d have liked it. Maybe even more than the prison.” Beth nodded, aware of their proximity.

  It felt like the right time; she drew back, giving his biceps an idle squeeze as she shifted back. She couldn’t quite read his expression, but that would come to her in time. He was good at disguising the little things, but she’d learned how to read him before. She could do it again, if he gave her the chance. She shifted her head, to get the hair out of her face. The dark didn’t allow for much more than the deep cuts of his eyes, and nose, and a little sliver of  a mouth.

  It was hard to tell what was going on with him, as much as it was with herself.

  Beth felt like she should say something, to breach their long lost topic of a changed mind, but it was probably too late for that. They’d been apart for so long, and the day had already been so tumultuous. She was afraid of what the resolution was, and so it could wait. Not for long. Beth knew life was too short for  _ later _ , but she couldn’t do that right now.

  “Might go back inside.” She said, her tone hollow.

…

   A sad smile tugged at the corner of his lips at the mention of Hershel. Daryl couldn’t help but think about the funeral home when the two of them talked about having a place like this and how things should have went. How Hershel should have died of old age rather than at the hands of the governor and that they’d be comfortable enough somewhere that Maggie and Glenn would have a baby, now that last part could become a reality. While he wasn’t one for talking to everyone he wasn’t deaf, he knew Glenn and Maggie always talked about having a family and he knew it would happen sooner rather than later. 

  Daryl didn’t believe in afterlife, or in heaven, but he liked to think that Hershel was out there somewhere, looking over his little girls; that the old man had protected them. How else could he explain Beth’s luck, in surviving a gunshot wound? Or how she had found her way back to him. Back to all of them, he correct.

  There was no explanation. By his reckoning, it wasn’t chance anymore. It was fate. He was finally starting to believe that everything happened for a reason, that things were slowly going to fall back into place now that Beth was back. 

   Daryl couldn’t help but to notice her pull away. He wasn’t ready, but he let her go. His arms dropped back to his sides, thick and useless if they couldn’t stay around her. His lips parted, brows furrowed in confusion when she said that she was going to head back inside.

  A blush crept up his neck and reached his cheeks. He felt like an idiot. He had been alone with her for a couple minutes and he’d already creeped her out. He’d been too greedy when he’d reached out, and completely fucked it all up with his touch. He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he offered her a vague nod. In his head, he was going over everything to figure out where he went wrong. 

  It was simple, when he thought about it.

  All the signs had been read wrong on his part. Daryl had thought thought for a moment, just a dumb, blind  _ moment, _ that she could feel something for him. Maybe even more than friendship. With how quickly she’d pulled away when he’d properly hugged her, his thoughts became sharp, his focus clear. He saw himself, looming, dirt caked hands pressed against her yellow polo, her pale skin contrasted with his cracked hide.

  Boy, had he been  _ wrong _ .

  It’s a spiral, too quick for him to catch.Similar to how she’d stepped away from him, his logical side followed. It detached and fell into nothing, which left him with blood pounding against his ears. Embarrassed for his attempt, and her rejection of it.

  Daryl didn’t blame her.

  Beth had only been out here for five minutes, and she was itching to get away from him. Now that she had the others, she didn’t need him. Beth had never needed him, really. She’d kept him around like an attack dog at best, smiled his way because she was kind, and he was to be pitied. Daryl was that dirty redneck, the one that people put up with because he was a good hunter and could bring in food. That’s all that he was good for.

  Daryl’s gaze shifted to his boots. They shuffled on the spot, already missing the warmth of her arms. He crammed that thought away. A hug was given to him like it was given to anyone. If she was looking for any other kind of comfort, she could easily go find it with someone else.

  Someone closer in age like maybe Aiden or Spencer. Someone who had more to offer than growls and snarls when she spoke with lilts and sweetness. 

  “Yeah, alright.”

  Daryl wasn’t ready to go inside. He didn’t want to seem eager by following her inside, either. If she wanted to get away from him, he’d let her. He’d stay out here for a while, to give her space. As if she hadn’t had months of that. The thoughts continued to lance at his innards, his throat shifting with each angry swallow. It kept the words, whatever he  _ would _ say, away from her. She didn’t deserve any of this. All she had done was show him kindness, and he was thoroughly  _ strangling _ it as he tried to keep her close.

  Daryl fiddled with his hands, a nervous habit of his. His thumb brushing over the circular scar on his hand from his cigarette, transfixed on the shift of texture. He felt a sinking feeling in his chest. This didn’t feel at all like earlier.

  Earlier he’d had that feeling you got when you reached the top of a rollercoaster, and you were about to go down the first drop. This feeling now, though? It was nothing like that, it was a chronic ache, that started behind his navel and wound its way up and down his organs. Despite that, he felt  _ empty. _ The one person he’d even consider going to for comfort was wanting to get away from him.

  That was probably the hardest part, not having anyone. He had never needed anyone before. Those few months he was alone with Beth, things had changed. Beth had relied on him for protection, he relied on her for the same. Daryl fought off the physical, which was easy enough. That came with violence, bolts and knives, and he had that in throws.

  Beth had offered protection from the loneliness and apathy he’d developed. These might have killed him, if he let it. But he had fought it, for her. He kept going for her. He relied on her for being the light in the darkness. Right now, everything was dark and the air had a tang of copper and salt.

  The small flicker of hope that Beth had given him was taken away. Daryl couldn’t blame her. That was the hardest part. It was like anything good he had ever had in his life; it wasn’t really  _ his _ to have.

  “I’ll be in later.”

  Daryl didn’t know why he told her that. It wasn’t as if she should care.

…

  Beth had played her return over in her head, time and again. There were specific details that stayed the same. She would receive hugs from Maggie and Rick, and everyone else from the prison. Then there’d be the little pink bean that was Judith overwhelmed, confused but happy. It was always painfully, blissfully happy. Because her family was predictable, in that they loved her, and she loved them.

  The inconsistent element was Daryl. It flipped between him crushing her in a hug, or it was indifference. Beth hadn’t accounted for both. He had first seen her and broken down into literal sobs, and they had embraced. It was very much what she had hoped for, for him to have missed her. 

  Now, she wasn’t sure.

  Maybe it had something to do with where her family had settled. The parody of the old world made her lock down, like Grady had. She was waiting for things to flip, for someone to appear and tell her that she owed them, that she had to earn her stay. On top of that, Daryl remained stony faced. Whether her hugging him meant anything, she couldn’t say. She mattered to him, but he cared about everyone. There was nothing about her to justify anything further than cursory protection.

  Daryl had hugged her because she had hugged him. He stopped because she stopped. 

  It was too much to expect him to be forthcoming, she knew that, but the dumb little part of her said it should be that way. That if he liked her, she would know it. But that was problematic because she felt it – she felt him deflate and recede, like her leaving wasn’t what he wanted.

  It was wishful thinking.

  Because Daryl wasn’t like that. Daryl was stronger than her, in the physical sense. But he needed people more than she did. She had learned that in their time together. If left to his own devices, Daryl would become aimless, and satisfied with survival at its basest form. She wanted to know what had happened to him, from the scar on his hand to the quiet that had forced itself between them. 

  “Okay, if you  _ wanna _ stay out here...” Beth shrugged, implying that he could do as he wanted. Maybe if there was a little more light or a little less space, she would have an easier time of reading him. She milled, to stare at him through the darkness. It was no good. She was tired, and it was late, and she was near ready to keel over. It would be a lie to say she wanted to sleep, but it was the practical choice. Beth reached forward to take his hand, briefly, to squeeze it and let it go.

  “Don’t stay out too late.” 

  Beth let his hand drop, and had to wonder who that was really for. It was another selfish thing, where Daryl didn’t need her, not really. He was strong, and capable, and now they had this arrangement of homes, this could be it. He would go off on runs, because he had to. Beth would care for Judith again, because she had to. And they wouldn’t speak like they had before, because they didn’t have to. She stepped back, arms crossed once more. The resistance that met her arms caused her to look down.

  Beth still had his jacket. 

  “Wait, you should have this back.” Beth shucked off the jacket. She tried not to mourn the loss of warmth, but she knew it wasn’t hers to keep. It suited him better, and if he was going to stay outside, he’d need it more. She held it out to him, two handed because it felt rude to scrunch it up. The smell lingered on her and she didn’t so much mind.

  It had been so warm, but the night was beyond cold.

  Or it might’ve been him, on both accounts.

...

   Daryl didn’t want to stay out here. He wanted to go back to the house with her, but he knew he couldn’t do that. She wanted to get away from him and he had to give her space. She had gotten back and he would have to be a fucking idiot to think he’d get more than a few minutes with her.

  Everyone would be fighting for her attention, he told himself. They’d want to know that she was okay, and what had gone on since she had been gone. He’d stay out here for a while longer and just stare at the blood that was slowly setting on the pavement. In time, he’d pick up the pieces of what had happened here tonight. 

   Tomorrow was a new day.

  Daryl could imagine Deanna out on the street, first thing in the morning. She’d be on her hands and knees with a toothbrush, scrubbing the pavement. Even when the red faded, she would keep at it, till it was gone properly.

  Although the woman had lost her husband, Daryl knew the blood on the streets would only be a reminder of everything that she had lost that day; that she’d want to clean it herself. He didn’t blame her. She wanted to keep this place as much like the old world as possible, and to have bloodstains on the pavement was to accept a part of the new world.

  While Daryl didn’t agree with this, he could see where she was coming from. 

  “I won’t.” That was a lie. He’d stay out here till the sky turned lighter, and not to return until he was sure everyone was asleep. He didn’t want to return back to the home, to see her with everyone else. There was a shift, defensive, because Beth would be with the people she  _ actually _ wanted to spend time with.

  Nah. That’d hurt far too much.

  Instead it’be easier to come back when everyone was sleeping peacefully and he’d take his place off in the corner. He could stare at the ceiling, to play the day on repeat until he passed out. All of it up until she pulled away, to say she should go inside.

   Daryl’s gaze shifted down to her. He stared as she took off his jacket, and it felt like another punch to the gut. He chewed on his lower lip a bit too roughly, till the blood was a taste not a smell. She held out the jacket to him, unaffected. He had told her that she could wear it, that he wanted her to stay warm and she was taking it off.

_ Ouch _ .

  Daryl eyed the jacket like it was a personal offense, before he met her eye. The disappointment written all over his features, the widened eyes, the tilted brows, the sunken sides of his mouth where he’d been smiling only hours ago. He doubted that Beth could see any of that. It was dark, but he shifted this expression into a scowl. His brows tightened, furrowed, and his lips drew downward into a proper frown.

   A hand shot out like a bullet, too late, to snatch the jacket off of her. He fumbled with it to find the arms, before he slipped it on proper. To add insult to injury, it smelled like her. Sure, he could still smell the leather and smoke and whatever shit he smelt like, but underneath all that he could smell  _ her _ .

  If held at gunpoint, he could describe it. It was a lot like cinnamon and soaked earth – almost like flowers. He didn’t know how someone who had been on the road could smell so good but of fucking course  _ she _ did.

  Beth smelled like  _ home _ , the long nights trekking through Georgia, the warm afternoons they’d rested in secreted clearings, and worst of all, how the funeral home smelled. That creepy little funeral home, that had been closest thing to a real home that he had ever had.

  To smell her on his jacket only deepened his scowl. It was a slap to the face, that she didn’t want to wear it, that she didn’t want to be out here. But he couldn’t blame her. The only thing out here was a few spatters of blood, and him.

...

 

  Alexandria would take time to learn. From what she understood, there were jobs, and there were places, and she wouldn’t have to go outside of the walls. That was a blessing and a curse. She was already feeling so ensnared by the place, with the guard posts, and the order in place. It may have been undeserved, but she would need time to accept it.

  It couldn’t be so simple, so  _ kind _ , and it would reveal itself in time. Daryl agreed it was a weird place, and that he hadn’t felt safe here. But maybe things had changed. That was no surprise, change was a running  _ trend  _ with them. Things changed, and changed, and they wouldn’t recognize themselves from the farm, when he’d gone off snarling into the forest while she was a ghost in the window.

  The blood on the ground was largely ignored. It would fade, or it would be washed away, but everyone would remember it. It’d never really be gone. That was just what blood did, and sadly, she had become painfully familiar with it.

  Beth kept a careful eye on him, unable to see what was going on with him. There were shifts to his face, but they were hidden in the shadows and by his own volition. She had once prided herself on that ability, in being able to discern whether he was happy or sad, or  _ what _ . Except she’d honed that in the months they’d spent together, and since things were different, his ticks were different, too.

  Beth had thought he wanted to be alone, and that he’d  _ want _ his jacket back. It was his, after all, it belonged to him. It wasn’t like a hoodie she’d stolen from Jimmy; it  _ wasn’t _ .

  Because Daryl needed the leather for his bike, and the wings at his back, or he looked incomplete. And Beth didn’t want wings at her back, because she wasn’t an angel, and she  _ would _ never be one. Not with the life she’d lived, with the things she had done.

  Beth was tired, and dirty, and it occurred to her that she’d likely sweated through the thing. Maybe she should have washed it before she had returned it, but he’d already snatched it away from her. She pretended not to notice, but she had. She was as observant as him, and scrutinized everything that passed her.

  Beth dropped her hands, as they had hovered for too long by him. They clung to the ghost of leather and his form, but she wasn’t about to push her luck.

  It was dark, and she was confused, and he was quiet. It was a mix of elements that led to miscommunication, and she had overstayed her welcome. Maybe she had pushed too much with that hug, or lingered too long, and he was just glad to see the back of her. Maybe he resented the sight of her; that  _ she  _ had survived, and his brother hadn’t, that others in the group hadn’t been as lucky as her.

  Because what was she really? Some  _ dead girl _ , resurrected. This spiral of logic was framed behind a polite smile, and Beth just nodded. She didn’t have words. She was making the worst out of this situation, and she knew it. She would wake up tomorrow and feel dumb for her line of reasoning. Because Daryl liked her, she told herself.

  Daryl did.

  Right?

  “ _ Okay. _ ” Her tone wavered too close to genuine upset, so that was all she said. She didn’t know what to make of it, her dip in mood, or his to match. They fed off one another, like they had before, but this wasn’t anger, this was ache. This was something hung between them, that neither could quite  _ breach _ . So Beth relented, rushing a hand through her hair, and she was gone.

  Down the path, towards the houses, tears in her eyes because she was relieved to be safe, but what was this? What was in her chest? It hurt. She didn’t even know  _ why _ . It felt like something was broken, and she could only think it was her. She wanted to claw into her chest and rip out whatever this feeling was, to strangle it or stifle it, or something. Something more than what was happening now, where it was being nursed by her upset.

  Beth slipped through the house, and made a beeline for the bathroom. She would shower and feel all the better for it. She wouldn’t think about what had just happened, and whatever that exchange had been. She had screwed up, and she’d only been here a few hours. She wanted to fit in, she wanted to be good, but all she felt was  _ tired _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I can say is ow. We've currently hit 120k~ of written content, so expect weekly updates, from 2k to 6k depending on the cut points. (Also I'm 99% sure if you cut out all the description, and only had dialogue, this chapter would be about 50 words at best.)


	5. cookie cutters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is solely written from Beth's POV. (May stray from canon details.)

  “There’s only one grave.” Beth looked to Rick. “Wasn’t there two men?”

  “We don’t bury murderers within our walls.” Rick scuffed his boot against the uneven dirt.

  There’s empty air where Beth should explain that everyone deserved a burial, but it sat. She had no interest in an argument of morality, not after her months with Morgan. The mantra of _all life is precious_ continued to peak within her line of reasoning, but Rick’s nonchalance spoke to her, too. It was a different perspective, brought on by a different experience.

  Rick still had the bandages across his face, from injuries sustained before Beth had arrived. She didn’t want to ask where they’d come from, in the same way he probably wanted to leave her well enough alone. But he’d seen her across the street, while between positions. The town was alight with talks, about the quarry, the action they’d need to take.

  “You out here for a reason, Beth?”

   “Haven’t had a chance to pay respect to everyone we’ve lost. Thought I’d do it here.” Beth dropped her head forward, arms crossed over her chest. And they stood there, quietly surveying the engraved name that read _Reg Monroe_.

  This was not what Beth expected after last night. Rick had been unhinged, distant, and spoke only with Morgan. Whatever had happened between the pair had drawn him back to their world. Beth wondered if he even realized she was here, or if he assumed she was an apparition. There was upturned dirt, two piles, but only one stake.

  Rick stood by Beth, his shoulders squared. His thumbs were looped into his holster. There’s a sound, like he might speak, but he didn’t. His attention switched between the sky above, the planks, then to Beth. She could sense his eyes on her, but she didn’t return the look. She was too busy with the upturned grass clumps.

  “We’re all murderers, Rick.”

  “Morgan said much th’same.” Rick’s tone was curious, like he’d pieced together that Beth and Morgan knew one another. It wasn’t that they were best friends now, but they had looked out for one another in the pursuit of Rick. For Beth, there was family, friends, the promise of people who she could rely upon. For Morgan, it was to be a return, a salvation. Beth didn’t know the details of it, merely that Rick had meant a lot to Morgan. Beth had been so desperate to escape Grady, she took him at his word.

  “Killin’ people, it ain’t right. But we’ve all done it.”

  “Doin’ what you gotta do, that ain’t murder.” There’s a shift in his posture, to properly survey her. Whatever Rick had It was the tone of her voice, or the absence of tone. Something had drawn more attention than Beth had intended. “You have t’kill because if you don’t, you’ll die. That man, Pete, he made his choice. Picked a fight, killed an innocent man.. Ain’t nearly the same thing.”

  Beth met Rick’s eye, and he met her in kind.

  The two men at Grady who had died directly by Beth’s efforts, and Dawn, their deaths weighed on her. It was disassociated, because she’d not pulled a trigger or seen them off herself. The closest was Gorman, as she had watched with a sick relish as he was torn apart. It was good to know that his actions placed that ward there, that he would die because of his own indiscretions. It made her ill, how unaffected his death had left her.

  “How you findin’ Alexandria?” Rick narrowed his eyes. “You eatin’?”

  Beth huffed, amusement cracking her lips apart. “I am.”

  There’s a tug of fingers against her shoulder, then a hug that she hadn’t asked for. It’s close and warm, but familiar. Not something that she clung to, and not something that she had dreamed of. Beth returned it, smile biting into his shirt, eyes closed tight. She didn’t know how long this lasted, but she knew it’d been coming. Beth had cared for Judith like the girl was her own, for the time they’d spent at the prison.

  In turn, Rick had been there to barter for her life, and she had thrown that gesture away. It had worked out in the end, but it should never have played out like that. Beth couldn’t justify her actions to anyone else, and at times she struggled to see it herself. The hug lingered, quietly, only to draw away when there was a crackle of footsteps. Beth hadn’t seen who it was, because it’d sounded outside of her vision.

  “Gotta go bury th’other.” Rick gestured loosely away, and his tongue darted out across his lips. Beth nodded, her attention back on the plank. He gave her shoulder a squeeze before he left, too, and she was alone with a dead man she had never known. She scuffed a boot by the edge of the dirt mound, not too close, just absent shifts. A few layers of dirt separated her from the dead.

  There was no chance for closure. Life kicked on without you, pushing, and pushing, until you had to sprint to catch up. The people who were lost at the prison, mainly children and the people from Woodbury, they were not to be mourned. Not now, anyway. Most had accepted it and moved it. Beth was still reeling from the loss of all the children she had cared for, and for her father, and her mother, and she had to put it away.

  Beth didn’t know how much more she could put away before she’d buckle.

  It wasn’t till Rick’s footsteps had long since died off that Beth sank down. She sat, absent eyes, fingers lost in the grass, that she reflected on the people she had fought so hard to find. When she had seen Rick, slick with blood and sweat, bandaged and bruised, she was scared. She was scared, because she had so thoroughly changed in the span of a few months, and she knew the others would change, too. But the change they’d gone through, that was an unknown element.

  Maggie still loved her, and she loved Maggie, but there was a disconnect. Glenn had become her sister’s focus and drive, and Beth accepted that. It didn’t even hurt, not like Beth thought it should. People grew up, moved on, got married. It wasn’t as if Beth and Maggie were close in their age, with Beth a constant _bother_ , a pestering moth by her sister’s bold flame. So she would speak with Maggie, and stay with Maggie, but she wouldn’t insist herself onto her.

  This place could be a home. It could be a tomb. It could be anything in between, it was all up to Beth, but more importantly, it was all up to what God would allow. Beth no longer clung to the Sunday sermons she had grown up on, but it offered an external element to look to. She could pretend that things, if they went wrong, were out of her control. Or if they went right, she had someone to thank.

  Right now she was waiting, and for what, she couldn’t say.

…

 “You _can’t_.” Beth near stomped her foot, hands balled up by her sides.

  There’s no response on Daryl’s part. He was busy picking through the part of his bike, and refused to look at Beth. She paced this way and that, to try and angle herself so he would have to meet her eye, but he kept firmly focused away from her. It drew a sickly pang from inside her, close to anger, but closer to disappointment.

  “Daryl, you can’t go out on a bike with all those walkers. That ain’t _safe_.”

  “Don’t.”

  Beth opened her mouth to argue, but snapped closed before she said anything. She nodded several times. She wished her hands were larger, so her tiny fists would reflect how _pissed_ she was. Right now they’re delicate things, bony and white-knuckled, no where near fierce enough. But Daryl hadn’t looked at her, so it didn’t matter.

  There’s had been a hesitance in her argument, because Beth hadn’t spoken to Daryl since her first night back. Rather, Daryl hadn’t spoken to _her_ . He’d turned on his heel every time they’d locked eyes. He’d looked away, and he’d _moved_ away from her, and she didn’t know what she had done wrong. It all came back to that jacket, and how deflated he’d been when she had returned it.

  “How about you _don’t_ , Daryl.” Beth ran a hand over her head, to push her too-long bangs from her eyes. “You _don’t_ go put yourself in harm’s way for no good reason. They have the car, and people on the sides. They don’t need you to put yourself in danger -- ”

  There’s a metallic thunk as a wrench hit the frame of the bike. From the pause that followed, Daryl hadn’t meant it. All she could see was the glint of too-sharp eyes, and she felt them draw across her skin like a knife.

  Beth didn’t understand what she had done wrong, or why he was so silent. Worst of all, she can’t piece together what’s happening between them. It’s pregnant silences, harsh angles and so restricting she felt close to suffocated. All she wanted was for him to be safe, and to respect himself; to care about himself, even a fraction as much as she cared about him.

  Even if he refused to care about her.

  Daryl snatched up the wrench, and worked it over in his hands. He smacked it between his palms, eyes turned downward. “Walkers go for sound, so yeah, I _do_ gotta.”

  This is the most he’s said to her this week, and all Beth felt was _relieved_. It’s bittersweet, that she could enjoy such a nasty snap of a sentence, but it’s all she has of him. Beth remained by the garage door, the light outside dim. She hovered, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

  “You don’t, though. Doesn’t have t’be _you_.”

  Daryl offered nothing in return, as he continued to fuss with his bike. He’d not moved anything substantial, or changed much of anything. Beth suspected it was a cover, to act as a distraction. She swallowed hard, the heel of her palm coming to push the tears off her cheeks. The movement was too aggressive to be mistaken for genuine tears. They were tears that had formed out of frustration, the kind she hated the most.

  If Daryl wouldn’t speak to her, she saw no point to being here. “Don’t stay up too late, we’ve gotta get onto that barricade tomorrow.”

  Beth moved to leave when a shuffle caught her ear. She looked back, disbelief on her features. Daryl stood by his bike, arms mirrored to hers, stance closed off. He stared at an old calendar, several years out of date.

  “Y’stayin’ here tomorrow.”

  Beth stopped, teeth bared. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You’re not goin’ out t’help with the wall.” Daryl shook his hair so more of it fell into his face. “Don’t _need_ your help.”

   Beth stood motionless in the garage’s open door, eyes snapping between Daryl’s face and chest, given he was turned away from her. Her entire body locked up, her chest alight with heat. Her offer of help had been dismissed, even though it was sorely needed. “Why?”

  There’s a shift in his jaw, unsettled. “You ain’t eatin’ proper. Or sleepin’.”

  “Says who?”

  Another crash of a tool, though this time it was dropped. It cracked against the concrete, then clicked against the bike. Daryl shoved it away with the side of his boot, hands still framed against the handlebar and seat of the bike. “We don’t need you goin’ out there, _collapsin’_.” Daryl looked back to her, finally met her eye proper. Beth was too mad to appreciate the gesture, too riled from the accusation. “We see you, Beth.”

  The return to her family hadn’t been as soothing as she had hoped for. She was still warped by the treatment at Grady, she thought absently. With the rigid system of rations and divvied out portions, Beth refused extra. She had been cautious with her rations, and she’d always pick food up last. She’d be the last asleep too, if she slept at all.

  “I eat. I’ve been here a few days, Daryl. Don’t know what sort of miracle everyone is expectin’ of me, but I can help you. Let me help you.”

  “Nah.”

  “Don’t _nah_ me.” Another huff, which Beth hadn’t meant to let out. “ _Daryl._ ”

  The bike obscured Daryl once more, metal framework spun across his face like a veil. So far as Beth could tell, Daryl was done with this conversation. He cared enough to watch her habits, but not enough to meet her eye for a conversation. Her throat felt like it had closed up from her outrage, but it wasn’t going to pass. If Beth’s offer had been refused, she couldn’t do much about it. Not without fighting her way out of Alexandria, and she hadn’t the want.

  Beth was lucky to be here, if only because her family was with her. She had spent her day by a grave to consider this, to remind herself of why she was here at all. Because Beth had wanted to return to her family for so many months, and all she wanted was for them to be safe. And now there was a threat, something she could help with, and she wasn’t _allowed_ to.

  “Fine. Judith’ll need someone t’watch her anyway. I can do that.” Beth’s voice waivered, rough around the edges. “Good luck with it.”

  “You think we need luck?”

   _Oh screw this._

  Beth set off down the driveway, hands still bunched by her sides. She wouldn’t even look back, not if he was going to be so callous about it all. He wouldn’t look after her either, she knew. She was strong, she was capable, and she had only been here a few days.

  This reunion was supposed to feel like an itch had been scratched. It was supposed to be sweet relief and rest. It felt as if her skin had been torn open instead, and the world wouldn’t stop bleeding because of it. It’d just pucker, scar, and leave her all the worse off.

  Beth was supposed to be happy, reunited with those she loved, not so mad she could cry.

…

  The parade was set to begin, and Beth had remained back. Rick had insisted, and Daryl had enforced it. She wasn’t permitted to participate, like she was still the babysitter from the prison. But it went deeper than that. Her months away from everyone had left her withered, just a little, her figure slimmer than healthy. It had been pointed out by Maggie and Carol, who both offered her food at every opportunity. Michonne was no better, but would be more subtle about it. She would slip her candy bars with an emphatic look, and Beth would accept it all.

  Because Alexandria was safe, Beth reminded herself. There was food here, and walls, and her family. There was so much to be thankful for, and so many people to rely on, that there was no reason to be afraid of the help that was offered. There was no running tally, and the only clipboard she had seen was for the sake of inventory. It didn’t so much matter if you took your fair share, it was only an issue if things were unaccounted for. It was similar, but not the same. Beth wasn’t expected to repay her share in kind. She helped out, she cooked, but she didn’t have to meet criteria.

  Sleep came to her now, and food settled into her stomach easier, and life was evening out. Alexandria had been a safe haven, and two men had died her first night. Following that was the prospect of a herd of unimaginable size, set on them.

  This had been met with a plan, one that alarmed her. There was every chance that Daryl could be ripped off his bike by a walker. On top of that, Sasha would be in a car followed by walkers. Both were people she had known for so long, and it scared her. It scared her so damn much, to know they were all out there, risking life and limb for this community. That made it easier to appreciate the convenience she was being vien, the luxury of safety. She felt it was disrespectful to decline the life she had so kindly been provided.

  “They’re pink, I know.”

  “Mom used to put food dye into our cookies, to tell them apart. Maggie used to eat my ones.” Beth explained all this through greedy bites. She had always had the red cookies, and Maggie had blue, and Shawn had green.

  “They still taste the same?”

  “Maggie always said the red were the best, but I’m pretty sure they were the same.”

  Carol smiled, absently eyeing the walls. Beth watched her closely, unsure what to make of Carol. They had been close at the prison, and had known each other as long as Rick or Daryl. There was a sisterhood to it, where Carol would look out for her, and they shared the responsibility of Judith. Beth had learned a lot from Carol about caring for babies, things she’d not needed to know as a babysitter.

  “You like it here?”

  “Mh.” Carol nodded, kind smile on weary lips. “It’s ah, a bit up and down, but it’s coming together.”

  They met eye to eye for a brief moment, where Beth could see the gratitude being sent her way. It confused her, as she hadn’t done much of anything for Carol. Not that the other women _knew_ . She had tried incredibly hard to get the correct drugs, to ensure that Carol would make it through the injuries sustained on her arrival to Grady, but she’d never spoken about it with the woman. She hadn’t done it with any expectation of a thank you, and Carol didn’t appear to want to _give_ one.

  “Can I ask you something.”

  Carol looked Beth over, curious expression pinched at her cheeks and lips. “G’on.”

  “You know Daryl pretty well.”

  There’s a knowing smile, but nothing is said. Carol nodded, expectant.

  “I think I did something wrong. Has he said anything? I know, it’s a dumb question, and a dumb time to ask, but he wouldn’t even speak t’me before he left.”

  There’s this pause, and Beth didn’t expect it. She expected Carol to dismiss her question, to say it was nothing, that Daryl was just like that, but it’s not what she received. Instead she got this _look_ , and Beth didn’t know what it was about. It was the sort of look a mother gave their child when they asked about boy troubles, but nothing like that either.

  “Give him time.” Carol inhaled sharply, shoulders rolled back. “Daryl took it really hard, when you… When we lost you.”

  Beth stared, no words coming from her cookie-filled mouth.

  “Before I got to Grady, he was so sure we’d just swoop in and save you. Didn’t play out like that, and he -- he hasn’t been in a good place for a long, long time, Beth. S’gonna take him time to _see_ you again. Don’t think it’s your fault.”

  There’s a mechanical nod from Beth, who felt the pangs of a migraine.

  “That’s just my perspective.” Carol added, a hand held up defensively.

  Beth cracked a smile, head dipped to hide her red cheeks behind her hair. She stared down at her fingers, which were pinched around the last bite of her cookie.

  Before she knew it there was a hug, brief and sweet, and then Carol is gone. Beth sank back to sit on the steps of the Grimes home, knees up, forearms rested against her thighs. Carol faded down the street and around a corner, humming merrily at her handiwork.

  Yet the migraine continued to pound within her head, dull at first, only sharpening with each throb.

  The heel of her hand pressed to her temple, eyes shut against the pain. Normally she bore through it, privately, and she would pretend it _didn’t_ ache. But there was a full store of medical supplies, and a doctor on hand that didn’t make her want to be ill. She peered down the street, towards the makeshift medical center.

  There was time before Beth had to pick up Judith from Carl. She could dip down to the street and see if Denise had any tips for a migraine caused by a head wound. It would also be a good excuse to acquaint herself with more people from the town, instead of being closed off. If she was to live here, she’d want to know the people she had to rely on. It was only a short walk away, a block at most. The door was always open so far as she was aware, so she approached with eager eyes and an aching head.

  “Hey, nothin’ urgent, just here to -- oh.” Beth peered around, eyes narrowed. No one was here, though she could have sworn she heard sounds. There was dead air all around. Perhaps it was her migraine, blaring inside her skull, red and angry. She stepped inside without an invitation, to peek over the supplies. She only wanted one pill, a little something to lift the ache. It was selfish, but Rick kept telling her it was okay to take what she needed.

  An over-the-counter painkiller wouldn’t end someone’s life if it was used, and so she began to forage through the cabinets. To her surprise, the supplies were incredibly thorough. Beth didn’t recognize much here, save for a few names Edwards had barked at or around her. Antihistamines, adrenaline shots, some insulin… It was a mix and match of different things, but she didn’t need or want any of it.

  There’s a shout outside, and Beth perked. It was quick and brief, and so she only listened for a handful of seconds before she resumed her search. A packet of cheap painkillers sat half-open, with the majority of the pills popped out. She thumbed it, to pop out one for herself. If it really was a problem, she’d pay it back in kind.

  But that wasn’t how this place worked.

  Another scream. And another. Beth snapped the pill into her mouth, to dry swallow it. It sat uncomfortably in her throat, but there was more important things to source. For starters, the shrieks. She stepped closer to the door she had entered through, eyes wide, cautious. Then there was a man. Not close. He was in the distance, blood, dirtied, and she couldn’t tell who it was. Beth didn’t know Alexandria, or who to trust, and so she dropped by the entrance, to the side. She may have been seen, but she didn’t know the situation.

  Despite the cries, the screams, Beth couldn’t go out there. Her head was thrumming in pain, and she had no idea who was friendly and who was foe. She heard the feet approaching, and she begun to search frantically through the space for something, _anything_. There was a metal tray, sharp edges, heavy, but it held an assortment of supplies on it. She darted up to tip them onto the countertop, the tray clutched in her hands.

  It could serve as defense and offense. There was no gunshots, so no projectile weapons. Whatever was happening, it would be better to act on the safer side. She didn’t think she could accidentally injure anyone with this, without it being earned on their part. And the man she’d seen frantically running smashed through the door, eyes wild, grin wider, and the thick, blooded W on his forehead.

  It was over before it begun. He moved to her, butcher knife out, too set on her to recognize she wasn’t one of the Alexandrians. She was tightly spun muscle and packed with experience. She mighn’t be Maggie or Michonne, but she was Beth. She was a woman who’d do whatever she had to, to survive. Even if it that fact sometimes slipped or faded, it always returned.

  In his eagerness, he’d not been defended himself. He’d looked to the spot he’d intended to hit. Upper right thigh; Beth swerved, and he followed through onto a counter. There’s a clumsy follow-up slash, too greedy, and Beth flicked the tray directly at his throat. The impact made a crunch sound, but she snapped it again, higher, against his nose.

  There’s a cry, loud, savage, and he slashed again. Beth had assumed he’d go for a body shot, so she jumped sideways. While right, she hadn’t moved _fast_ enough, and the thick knife ran the length of her ribcage. The smell of blood was enough to make her want to throw up, but the pain kept her focused.

  It was a superficial wound, and he was too proud of it. Beth feigned injury, which only drew him closer, ravenous, and she snapped a leg out. A crotch shot, because there was no such thing as fighting fair. He hissed, and Beth snapped the tray against his face again. This time it struck his eye, which set a thick sludge of blood and _things_ down his cheek and across the tray.

  Another superficial wound, with his intent her heart. Her left side was peppered with inefficient slices, because Beth kept skirting away. The knife rasped bone more than once, but that would come later, when adrenaline abated.

  The tray struck again and again, and this weapon wasn’t great, but it worked. The wound opened in his eye only made it more difficult for him to fight back, and she matched it in kind, smacking at his face until he was beyond sight. He fumbled and dropped the knife, his hands snapped out to find her. They found purchase on her shirt, which only shifted to her throat.

  The pair fell to the ground, which drew a cry out from Beth.

   There was a crushing grip around her throat, a scrabble as she fumbled for the knife he'd dropped, then blood. So much blood.

  The man’s hands went rigid, briefly, then limp. He slumped down on her, blood running from her chin to her hips, her yellow polo shirt thoroughly decimated from his knife and their blood. It nearly went in her mouth, and splattered all across her front, her sides, and she didn’t know where her blood begun anymore. All she knew was the man on top of her was emptying himself onto her, blood and veins and muscle all puckering around his slit throat.

  It took a firm push, but he slumped onto the ground beside her. With the bullet wound on her head, and the blood that covered her, she could feint death. If someone else came in search of him, she would only act defensively. Because the slice across his ribs made it hard to move, and the impact that winded her. Her head had smacked the ground, and that only drew out more stars to her vision. Beth had little to offer. One fumbled fight had nearly been the end of her.

  The screams continued.

  Eventually they shifted, from screams, to groans, as the light died down. Beth had spent the better part of the day in and out of consciousness, her hands clamped firmly at her sides. Her blood had clotted against her ribs, with the help of her firm presses. The blood from herself, and the man earlier. She had long since sunk his own blade into his skull, to ensure he’d not return. She had mashed his head plenty with her tray, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

  Movements could reopen or worsen the wounds. Her adrenaline offered her a cloudy perspective of her wound, and unless she had to, there was nothing to be gained from moving. If someone came in to the doctor’s office, and found her, this would be the best place to be. The doors were safe, and any movement could draw in walkers, and Beth couldn’t deal with that.

  The vague screams, distant, slowly dying out, kept floating in and out of her focus. Beth just felt like sleeping, really, her mind so distant from her body. She wanted to sleep, and she wanted to apologise for whatever she had done wrong, and for taking Alexandria for granted. She’d do so much more, if she had the chance. She’d eat as much as possible, she’d hug everyone so much more, she’d live more.

  Because Beth wouldn’t die here. Not now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first of a 'one character POV' chapter, which will be added where needed. Normally this will be done to cover events that would happen in canon, that Daryl and Beth would not be together for. It will be either from Beth's POV, or Daryl's, and will be worked on by both authors (discussed/revised). This one was written by Beth's author.
> 
> We attempted to keep it close to canon, but some details may not match up perfectly, and we will glaze over anything that matches closely to the show canon. We don't want to sit and rewrite canon scenes word for word, not unless Beth would add something pivotal to a moment. For example, the meeting where they discussed the conversation about the quarry full of walkers wouldn't be an event Beth would have butted into, and her reactions wouldn't have been enough to merit a rewrite; it's kept as implied.
> 
> Also, _drama_.


	6. baby possum.

  The flurry of screams persisted through the day and into the evening. They shifted from human to walker. There would be a punch of a scream, and Beth feared she recognized it. Carol, Olivia, the other women she’d come to know within her short stint in Alexandria. A few others had sought safety here, between the attack.

  There was Aaron, and Deanna’s son, another man, and Denise -- they’d all taken posts at the windows, the doors, but Beth had dismissed the concerned look from Denise. Things were too loud outside, and a rushed set of stitches would not be helpful. Not only that, the doctor, Denise, she expressed nerves about the idea of blood, and Beth didn’t  _ want _ the help.

  Because of her limited knowledge of Alexandria, and the thick  _ slap _ of corpses on concrete outside, Beth remained hidden. There would be no use in a strain to her side, given how adrenaline would mask the extent of the damage. She kept conscious, but to herself. She wondered if this would be how she died, alone and trapped in the infirmary.

  Beth was not fond of hospitals, and that distrust felt closer to  _ hate  _ after today.

  There were walkers in all directions, at least five deep in all directions. She was famished, and still suffered from the dizziness she had come to settle. Her trip to the infirmary had only worsened the hurt with blood loss, but she was still alive. She could fight, if she had to. She only hoped the walkers would thin. There was no where they could go, and no supplies. They couldn’t stay in here.

  Beth made out the lone gunshot in the midst of walkers. An anguished scream that sounded like a name, from a voice she recognized. She had tucked herself away in the corner, knife in hand, eyes set on the door. The others, Heath, Spencer, that was their names, they were by the window with Aaron.

  It was hard to make anything out, until figures burst through the door. At first she thought it was walkers, from the smell and the appearance. That fell away when she saw the figure strung out between the arms of -- Rick. The room was clogged with walker guts, tears, blood, screams, and then it clicked.

  Carl.

  Outside was red, bright, with the smell of smoke and burnt flesh in the air. Carl was set on the table, half his face obscured by blood, the opposite side she had been shot, but lower, and  _ god _ , there was so much blood. On her body, outside, on everyone, on everything. She pushed up from the corner she had taken to, her knife shoved back into its sheath.

  Beth echoed again Alexandria is a safe place. She shifted to Denise, eyes wide, lips set. Michonne, the others, they’d all taken to the street after Rick. There was screams again, but they weren’t victims. They were on the  _ attack _ . Beth was cleaner than the others, given her blood was purely red, not thick and gory black. She knew what Denise needed, so she set to work. Her dizziness be damned, her own wounds, too.

  Beth hadn’t been there for him, or the others, all because she had been selfish. She’d splintered off on her own to get one little painkiller, and the day fell to pieces. Maybe she could have helped, she could have stopped whatever had happened.

  The gunshot might not have been fired. Or maybe it’d have landed elsewhere.

...

  Daryl had a sinking feeling in his chest when he saw that a section of the wall was down.

  The walkers from the parade were scattered around, with countless others. A truck had plunged into the tower outside the walls, and that lay across the corrugated iron. The siren must’ve sounded from there -- but that didn’t answer the  _ why _ of it. That could come later.

  The first thing he thought about was Beth.

_ Where was she? Was she safe? _

  All he could think about in that moment was her, but there was the immediate problem at hand; too many damn walkers. He shoved the thoughts of her aside, and worked in tandem with Abraham and Sasha. The fucker who’d taken his shit in the black forest -- he said the walkers were drawn to fire. Daryl took to the truck, words spat at the others, and the plan was in motion.

  The gasoline from the truck they’d found, that was spilled into the pond. All it took was one rocket to set it alight, and the walkers were like moths to the flame. The water looked like it was on fire, and the smell of boiled bodies took to the air, along with burnt flesh, hair, blood, the usual stench of death.

  Once off the truck, Daryl turned to see Michonne, sword against bone, knives against skulls. Through squinted eyes, he saw a small group of people,  _ his _ people. Beside them was the Alexandrians, all on the attack, fighting together to keep this place theirs. 

    The archer reached for his crossbow, only to feel empty air in hand. Right, that jackass  _ Dwight _ had taken it. He reached for his knife, to help the others. They had a formation, all sides covered, back to back, all to fight off the herd of walkers. They proceeded like this for a few minutes, but it felt like hours. There was a seemingly endless drag of a knife through a skull. Beyond that was the pound of boots against concrete, as they crushed and slashed and hacked through the bodies.

    The last one dropped with Daryl’s knife pierced into it’s skull. He realized now he was damn near  _ panting _ from the effort, so clamped his lips together. He’d handled worse. The group was a nervous bundle of wide eyes and bloody forms. Rick and Michonne were caked in walker guts, and Aaron was serious by Eric’s side. As he looked over the group, he realized Beth wasn’t among them.

   Beth, Carl and Denise were all missing, and he hoped that they were all together,  _ safe _ . It must have been obvious that the archer was panicked over the missing few, because Rick gave Daryl a look.

  “Carl, he’s…” Rick couldn’t even finish the sentence – Carl needed to be okay. Michonne took to Rick’s side, hand at his elbow, and a serious look on her face.

  “They’re at the infirmary, Denise and Beth’re helpin’ Carl.”

  Rick shot the woman a sideways smile, though his eyes were still painfully wide.

  They would take care of the bodies later. Daryl needed to see Carl and Beth, to make sure that they were okay, that they would  _ be _ okay. There was still blood on the back of his vest from the stabwound, but it was an easy fix. A couple of stitches at worst.

  Daryl followed closely behind Rick. The pair were on a mission, with the others stuck amidst the corpses, lost as to what to do. They’d need to fix the wall. They’d need to move the bodies out, and away. But not now. They had shit to do right now.

  The group approached the infirmary, Daryl stepped in right after Rick and Michonne. Daryl eyed the room, between the corners and the shelves, and  _ blessedly  _ landed on Beth. She was covered in too much blood, with a dozing Judith in her arms.

  The archer let out a shaky breath as he closed the gap between them, in no more than three wide steps. “You hurt?” The panic was evident in his voice, his hands at her shoulders. The rough grab was followed by a gentle squeeze. He didn’t give a shit that the slowly formed crowd of Alexandrians and his own group were here, that they might  _ look _ at him and Beth.

...

  The day had gone too slowly, but now things were beyond her cognition. The wound sustained by Carl was enough to make her stomach roil with sympathetic pain, her throat clenched tightly against the urge to throw up. Denise needed her, and more importantly, Carl needed her. This felt like her fault, so the least she could do was play nurse.

  Beth operated at a base level, her movements all clinical. She had assisted on procedures with her father and with Dr. Edwards. The basics were there, which tools were which, and the blood didn’t normally make her stomach so upheaved. Part of her wondered it it would have been possible for her before, to become a  _ doctor _ . She liked to help people, and she had a steady hand.

  Didn’t so much matter now.

  After Rick had stepped outside, flanked by the others, Beth as good as blacked out. There’s a visual memory, how Carl looked on the table, but no sound remained. She helped Denise as much as possible, and stayed by Carl’s side, her arms wrapped around Judith. She kept pressing idle pecks to the crown of the girl’s head as they both fought to remain awake.

  Beth wasn’t safe yet.

  The sound of walkers died out as the grunts of human exertion increased, and in short order Rick returned. The difficult part had been handled, and Denise was between her textbook and Carl. Currently, they needed him to stabilize, and more would be done once that was the case.

  Rick crumbled by Carl’s side, to hold his son’s hand. Michonne followed and then Daryl. Her breath caught in her throat, and what felt like her life returned to her as he took her shoulders into his hands. She smiled weakly at him, only to blink dolefully at him when he asked if she was okay. All she could remember was their last fight, about the construction of the wall, and how he’d avoided her.

  ”Me? Yeah.”

  Beth looked sideways to Michonne, who’d reached out to grab Judith. There’s a flicker of happiness in Beth’s eye, as she pieced together what Rick and Michonne were on the path to. A little light in all the darkness. She handed the girl off to Michonne, only to snap a hand to her side. She smiled over her wince, eyes set on him.

  “Are you? What happened?”

...

  The last thing Daryl wanted to think about was that stupid fight that they had, and how he’d avoided her. What if that was the last time he saw her? What if that was the last time that he had spoken to her? Something could have happened to her, and she could have been gone.

  Beth was here,  _ now _ , and he needed to think about the present. Daryl needed to stop the bullshit, where he’d avoid her, and push her away. He wanted to be with her so damn much, it hurt more than the physical, the stab, the road rash, all of it.

  They weren’t promised tomorrow, or even a  _ today _ , and he would have never forgiven himself if something were to happen her. Daryl didn’t want his last words to her to be from a place of anger. Beth deserved better than that.

  Daryl had not answered her question. He was fine, he was always  _ fine _ . He then looked down to little ass kicker, the little girl had sleepy eyes but she was okay too, she had a little blood on her dress but it was transferred from Beth’s shirt and the little girl wasn’t injured. 

  Michonne plucked Judith away from Beth, which only revealed the worst of the damage.

  Daryl saw her hand snap straight to her side, and his brows furrowed in concern. He reached to cautiously rest his hand over of hers. He didn’t apply any pressure, or pull her hand away. It was him, wanting her to know that he was there. It was to let her know that he was right here and he just wanted to make sure that she was okay.

  The blood had been bad enough, but to see all of it, it look like she’d drowned in the stuff. Daryl’s gaze shifted over her, from her face to her throat, down to her torn shirt. He reached forward without thought to tug at the material with his free hand. His gaze returned to hers, eyes hard in the shadows.

  “What happened?”

    His own injury could wait. He’d do it himself, but he couldn’t reach the spot. It was an awkward angle, between his shoulder blades. He could have someone clean it, to make sure it didn’t get  _ infected _ , and he’d be good to go.

  “How bad is it?” Daryl wanted to tug up her shirt to check out the wounds, but didn’t want to embarrass her in front of everyone. “Lemme see.”

…

 Violence was no longer something Beth feared, not like she  _ used _ to. To fear violence now was to fear living. You had to accept it in some form, to continue. The world wouldn’t let you survive if you weren’t willing to  _ fight _ .

  When she was younger, there was every  _ warning  _ thrown at her about dark alleyways, and sticking to the main roads. Beyond that was the constant mantra of  _ run away from scary people _ . Run until you’re far away from your attacker, or until you find someone who can help you.

  That hadn’t helped her today.

  Beth’s attention dropped down across her front, across what Judith had been hiding with her bundled softness. There was blood, she knew that part. But the redness ran all the way down from under her chin, to her hips. There was varying shades, and intensifies, but all it told her was she hadn’t run. She had killed someone, with her bare hands and a stolen knife, because she’d had to.

  That’s what she told herself. There had been a knife, and he’d had his hands on her throat, and it  _ had _ to happen. The fact he’d been blinded by her didn’t matter. The fact that all life is precious didn’t matter. In the time she’d spent laying in the makeshift doctor’s office, she had thought over her actions, and thought about her possible paths.

  If she hadn’t killed him, he’d have killed her. That wasn’t even a question. Beth knew it deep inside, and it didn’t make it easier. It only shifted her mindset, where too much had happened, too many things all outside of her control.

  The numbness was helpful, given that Daryl was  _ painfully _ close to her, in her space, eyes on her, all over her, and his hands just as forward. There’s the question she expected, but she hasn’t got an answer. “People, I guess. People, walkers. I don’t know. I only saw one man.”

  Beth cast a sideways glance at the corpse of the man she’d fought earlier, tucked into the corner of the room. His face was an absolute mess, beyond recognition, but there was a clear incision across his throat. The second stab, to ensure he didn’t come back, was lost in the offal that had once been his awful face.

  Beth snapped her gaze back to Daryl when he set his hand over hers.

  “I haven’t looked.”

  If she looked, it’d hurt more. Beth wanted to linger, his hand on hers, but she knew the cuts would need to be tended to eventually. The shirt had formed against it, from all her clutching, so she tenderly drew her hand away from his.

  One deep breath later, Beth peeled her shirt aside, enough to expose her ribs. The slice ran thick at the top, tapering out across her hip. The tail end drew across her belly. She didn’t know what kind of cut the man had been going for, but with his massive _ knife,  _ she supposed anything would’ve screwed her up, had she not moved.

  Around the incision was several other cuts, not as deep, across her sides and arms. Most were superficial, only having broken a few layers of skin, but the one that ran the longest was deep. That’d been the one that’d brushed her rib cage, the one that’d thoroughly shorn her shirt. The seam had given up on her left side, from the armpit to the bottom. She’d been clutching it in place for so long, she’d not even noticed. She hadn’t even realized how  _ long _ the cut had been.

  Beth kept her arm folded across her chest, to pin the shirt away from it. She looked down at her figure, tears formed at the edges of her eyes. All the adrenaline had smoothed out the day, into a vague blob of blood and a fight and a corpse.

  "I jumped back.” Beth explained. “I needed something for a migraine, and I was  _ here _ ... And he came running. I hit him with a tray, and he cut me -- there. He tried to strangle me, and I got his knife.” The pieces all snap together, as she is trying to make sense of it as much as he is. She looked between the cut and Daryl, worried.

…

    This place was supposed to be  _ safe _ , but that was the thing whenever you had something in this world there was a line of people waiting to take it. Back at the prison there was the governor and now here it was these people that called themselves the wolves.

  Except things were different with these wolves, they were savages. At least the governor had tried to bargain with them, even though what he was asking for was unreasonable. These people though, they came through and tried to kill people

    Daryl had seen his people, that they were alive, and that’s all that mattered to him. Yes, he knew that Alexandria was his home, and that he was supposed to consider these people close to him, but he couldn’t. Not yet. The only people he had accepted within Alexandria were Aaron and Eric. He had seen them in the midst of the walkers, and he knew that they were okay.

  Okay was a shitty term, because what  _ was _ okay? Carl had been shot in the head and Beth had nearly been  _ gutted _ . Daryl had gotten here late, and that left him with no idea what had happened to Carl. He didn’t know who’d shot the boy, or why.

  What if he had gotten back earlier? Would he have been able to prevent all of this? Or at least some of it? 

  Daryl knew that was no way to think, and that he needed to focus on the task at hand. The task at hand was  _ Beth _ , to make sure that she got the proper care for whatever had caused all this blood. His gaze shifted down as she lifted up her shirt, his gaze scanning over her stomach a frown tugging on his lips as he saw the deep gash that would most likely require stitches.

  It was hard to think about anything else. If she hadn’t jumped out of the way, he could have punctured a lung and Beth would have been on the floor. She would have taken her final breath, and bled out onto the infirmary floor, and he wouldn’t have been there. Her last memories of him would have been terrible ones where they were fighting.

  Daryl’s gaze drew back from the cut to meet her eye, to give her an apologetic look. Right now he needed to make sure that she was okay. He could beg for forgiveness later, if she’d allow him to.

  All Daryl wanted to do was make her feel better, to find her painkillers and a new shirt. First he needed to get a good look at her. He noticed the tears in her eyes, and the body in the corner. He wanted to tug her close to him, but he didn’t want to hurt her.

  Instead he lifted up her chin with a gentle touch of his index and middle fingers, to inspect her neck. There was the telltale bruises of hands, patchy around the segments of each fingerprint. Daryl was beyond furious. The asshole was dead, so it wasn’t like he could kill him. That knowledge didn’t lessen Daryl’s anger, because how fucking  _ dare _ someone lay a hand on her.

  There was a short pang of pride, in that she had defended herself. Beth could hold her own, and while not all of the others saw that, he did. He saw her strength a long time ago, back when the prison had fallen and they had spent months alone together.

  “We should clean these up, until Denise has a chance to look at ya.”

...

  It disconcerted her that Daryl wouldn’t tell her what had happened. The few times she had peeked outside the window provided her a rough idea, people had invaded, and walkers had gotten in. The semantics of how both things had happened were beyond her, as she had been on her own for the majority of the day. There were flashes of people, in, out, voices, colors, movements, but Beth had been thrown off by the slice and the pain when she breathed. The pain she’d thought had come from her ribs alone, but from the tenderness of her throat, she put it together.

  It was surprising to have Daryl make a beeline for her, given how cold he’d been before the group had left. He’d yelled at her about how unhelpful she’d be, how she’d collapse, and she’d just about  _ done _ that today. Not before taking down a man twice her size, but still.

  Maybe he had a point. Maybe she did need to eat more, sleep more, and make the most of this safe haven. There were plenty of moments she’d thought about while she remained tucked behind the curtain, knife in hand. So many things she should have said, and so many things she should have done. She was sick of these near-death experiences, and how fruitless they were.

  Daryl met her eye, and nausea hit. Because he looked so sad, and it was her fault again. She had taken care of herself, as she always  _ would _ , but he’d looked at her and seen her wound. Not the man she’d taken down, not the blood she’d spilled, just that  _ she _ was injured, and that was another tick by her name.

  The fingers by her chin drew her head up, so her eyes focused sideways, away from Daryl, away from the man in the corner. There’s a faint clutch of air, pain in her throat all over again. She snatched her chin back to let it drop, so she could breath properly.

  “ _ Okay _ .” Her voice was a croak, so she forced herself to swallow, tongue rolling in her mouth. Beth forced her gaze back to him, determined.

  “You didn’t answer -- are  _ you _ okay? What  _ happened _ ?” And her voice enforced both, frustrated by the dancing around. Her side smarted, warm and another trickle of blood formed at the cracked crusts. All her muscles clenched and strained, given that she’d spent so long  _ solitary _ . Standing here, with Daryl, she was all energy. She needed to know. She should have known to begin with.

  Beth kept her shirt pinned up, the expanse of her stomach and side exposed. She’d never been especially shy, given she’d grown up with a waterhole a few miles down the road from her farm. She’d spent entire summers there, warmed under the sun, vegged out in a bikini. There’d be a scar. She didn’t need to ask to know. She’d gotten scars from less, a shard of broken mirror, a pistol whip, a bullet.

  What was another scar,  _ really _ ?

…

    Daryl couldn’t give her a proper answer because he didn’t know exactly what had happened. When he came it seemed as if it was the tail end of everything, he saw the truck crashed into the wall and then walkers, he didn’t see any wolves. It seemed as if he had missed a big chunk of the fight and just helped finish it off with Rick and the others. He was trying to piece together everything that happened but he couldn’t figure it all out.

  Had one of the wolves shot Carl? 

  “’m fine.” That was all he offered, matched with a dismissive shrug. He hoped that would be enough. Right now he wasn’t thinking about the injury on his shoulder, it didn’t hurt because adrenaline was pumping through his veins and all he was thinking about was getting her better.

  There were too many people around, the room was in complete chaos, what with Denise working on Carl’s injury. He looked around, down the hall to where the other rooms were. He wondered if he should take her back there, or get her out of here altogether. There was too much going on. 

  “C’mon let’s get supplies. I can stitch ya up.”

  It was far too chaotic in here. Daryl couldn’t even think straight. He needed some peace and quiet, so he could properly talk to her. He also needed to make sure that she’s okay. Daryl dropped his hand from her chin when she tugged it away, to let it fall to his side. She was covered in blood and he hoped that it just  _ looked _ worse than it actually was – but it looked pretty damn bad. 

    Daryl then realized that she had her shirt tugged up and there was other men in the room and he didn’t want them to see her like that. Even if it was only her side, it wasn’t a peep show. He shot Spencer a glare, as the man had chosen the worst time to glance their way. He seemed concerned about Beth, but Daryl didn’t care. He reached up to gently pull Beth’s arm away, so her shirt would fall to cover up her stomach.

     Daryl moved toward the cabinets behind her and opened them up taking a bottle of rubbing alcohol, a sterile needle, sutures, gauze –  _ everything _ he would possibly need to take care of her. He’d bring back whatever he didn’t use, but all he was thinking about was her needs. They could go to the house next door to the main one, it was empty and quiet–that’s what he’d need. A near empty bottle of strong painkillers were tossed into the backpack, too, in case she asked.

  “Can y’walk?”

…

  The flurry of people began to register; between Aaron, and Denise, Beth wasn’t so familiar with the people of Alexandria. There was that very tall man, who she knew was related to Deanna. Her son, she knew. But otherwise the faces and bodies all mixed and matches, all over the place. There were walkers all put to rest outside, and more corpses than people.

  Her attention shifted back to Carl, who she’d been tending to a short while ago. Her attention was too keenly focused on obeying whatever was barked at her, like when she’d helped at Grady. But this was Alexandria, and she was  _ safe _ , and that continued in her head. She was excited for when that would be the truth.

  The word ‘stitches’ cropped up, and that  _ Daryl _ of all people was going to do it. She’d not seen his handiwork, but that may be a testament to how good he was. She’d never seen a scar on him, not that he went about flaunting them. Maybe she’d not paid close enough attention. She had noticed the scar on his hand, the one that she was staring intently at now.

  That same hand snapped out to draw her arm out and away, to let the shredded shirt fall back down. She looked up, confused, between a snarling Daryl and the concerned looks from some of the others. Oh. They’d seen her cut.

  It wasn’t near as bad as what had happened to Carl, and she’d not made it known. People must have taken the blood on her as from the man in the corner, not from herself. Seemed that Daryl knew better. He always did.

  Beth watched as he began to pack away supplies, and all she could think was how she’d have another big old scar, another near-death experience to mull over when things seemed glum. She was a thistle, a  _ weed _ , persistently alive despite the universe’s better efforts.

  “Yeah, I can.” Beth shuffled close, to stick by Daryl’s side. He hesitated, dubious of her assertion, but she started towards the door. It was cold outside, but the  _ smell _ \-- God. Beth snapped a hand to her mouth, given how  _ volatile _ it was. She hadn’t made it to the sidewalk before the beet cookies spewed out from her, to her surprise and dismay. It’d been a long while since she’d thrown up over walkers, but this wasn’t  _ just _ that. She doubled over, knees knocked together, shoulders hunched.

  Sure, there were walkers, but what struck her was how _ many. _ Hundreds, strewn in all directions, decayed blood and shit and bile and  _ offal _ all baked to the pavement. There were fresher corpses, the Alexandrians, mixed into it. There was faint groans, some wounded, some  _ undead _ , and then the smell of burnt corpses. The pond was sizzling, and the air was  _ thick _ with smoke. The singed hair and blood and every bodily thing imaginable drifted around her, like it always did, but so much  _ stronger _ .

  “S’fine, I’m  _ fine _ , don’t worry -- “ Beth hissed,  _ angry _ . God, she was so angry. She had seen all this before, she  _ lived _ this, but everything smelled like the  _ prison _ , and she wanted to be sick. And she had been. Thick pinkish mush, spewed through the flowers. The few cookies she had giggled over with Carol, they were all there was to let go. Her hand was clutched at her side and mouth, to keep them both from  _ splitting _ . She failed on both accounts, from the reopened cut at her side.

  Beth was about ready to  _ punch _ something.

…

    Daryl shrugged the backpack over his shoulders once he’d packed it with all the things he’d need for Beth. Heath watched him, but knew better than to ask Daryl what he was doing. If the archer was going to stitch up the blonde himself, it was probably for the best. Denise needed to focus on Carl. There was a briefly shared gaze between the men, and then it was gone. Daryl was glad that Beth seemed to be okay with the plan. He’d have her stitched up and good to go in no time.

    The archer nodded as she said that she could walk. He followed her outside, and he took little notice of Alexandria. But he noticed how she stumbled once they hit the open air. The smell of death hit him after her, but it was all the worse for the blonde. She’d bent over in the garden, out of habit he assumed, to throw up into the bushes. Figures that she would respect the pavement even when she was  _ hurling _ .

  Daryl had grown so used to the smell and the bodies, so he was immune to it. He couldn’t help the guilt that he should have warned her what was outside the doors. He honestly didn’t even think about it, all he was thinking about was her and her injuries.

  Now here she was throwing up into the bushes, and he didn’t know what to do. He reached over to put a hand on her back, a pattern of small upwards circles with the flat of his palm. The shake and rattle of her ribs only stressed him out.

  Daryl’s gaze fell to the bushes, to seek out the damage, and his mouth fell open as he saw the red.  _ Blood _ ? Was she throwing up fucking  _ blood _ ? Shit, this was worse than he had thought. If she was throwing up blood, she might be bleeding internally. Maybe her rib had been nicked, or maybe she’d swallowed blood -- 

    They didn’t have time for this. She walked too slow and she’d reopened her wound at her side. A frown tugged on his lips as he heard how angry she was, how she insisted that she was fine when she clearly  _ wasn’t _ . He chewed on his lower lip for a moment as he tried to think of the best way to carry her without hurting her.

  “Here – ” He moved in front of her, the flats of his palms pointed at her. His fingers twitched towards him, as if to encourage her closer. “You’re walkin’ too damn  _ slow _ .”

    Daryl wouldn’t listen to any argument she made. She had insisted that she was fine to walk, but he wasn’t going to give her the chance after she’d thrown up pinkish red shit.

  “Hop on.” Daryl grabbed at the backs of her thighs, and scooped her up. He kept his hands at the backs of her thighs, head tucked around her shoulder. It would have been a _ lot _ easier to carry her bridal style, but he wanted the least amount of pressure on her ribs. He hoped that she was too tired to struggle away, or demand to be put down because he was only thinking about getting her  _ home _ .

  Whatever home was.

  It took him a moment to get adjusted to carrying her like this, given the weight of her, and the backpack, but she met him. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and her face was buried in his neck. His hands remained at her upper thighs, given that the last thing he wanted to do was  _ drop _ her..

…

  This sucked. That was about as much as Beth could offer. She hadn’t thrown up in who knows how long, but it didn’t matter. Her body was likely rebelling against the blood loss, the migraine, and the  _ stubbornness _ with which she kept vertical. Because her wounds were a fraction of what had happened to others, she was alive, and yet she was being coddled.

  There was a see-saw she noticed, where Daryl wouldn’t even be in the same room as her, and now he was attached to her damn hip. She wiped furiously at her mouth and chin, lips curled around the foul taste of sick. Except he didn’t even comment on her being ill, aside from his insistence she walked too slow.

  Maybe she was slow because she was busy tossing cookies, literally. Beth would say as much, but she didn’t much trust herself to say anything. She knew it’d be okay, once she was inside somewhere quiet, and safe, and it was only herself and Daryl. He’d see to her side, and help her clean up, and she trusted him. She trusted him with her life, and with her body, and she had no interest in clogging up the infirmary with her cuts. There would be so many others that needed help, and she really just needed him. The thought was crisp, despite how foggy her mind was.

  The approach and press of him against her was enough to make her look up, but before she knew it, she was attached like a baby possum. Her knees locked at his lower back, her face buried in his shoulder, her head still light and awful. She wanted to sleep, but she knew she was nowhere near close. The pain in her side was enough to deter that thought.

  The pace picked up immensely, and she’d not even really adjusted to the idea of being wrapped around Daryl. Or him even  _ being  _ here. He’d ran from her more times than she could count, but now he was here, stuck to her. And she was stuck on him, too.

  There was a few steps and shadows, and there was a door. Beth had taken to low, soft breaths, near sleeping, but kept awake but the occasional stab in her ribs. She clung to his vest, thankful that her stomach had behaved.

  “Where’re we?” She asked, through her sleepy state. She’d sober up once she was away from his warmth, and the reassuring grip on her thighs left her. It was just nice, no matter how strange the posture may appear. There’s a few more bumps, and a series of steps, and then  _ light _ .

  A bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The canon was implied and somewhat fudged, as always.
> 
> This was cut mid-thread, so the next part will pick up immediately. Thank you everyone for your kudos and support! We're about... 58 pages into the currently written 290+ pages.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My roommate did [fanart](http://d3moira.tumblr.com/post/143987663126/from-learn-the-rules-by-juimon) from the previous chapter! And I didn't even have to force her to do it.

  Daryl was grateful that Beth hadn’t protested but instead held onto him. It made it easier on the both of them. It was too easy, Daryl realized. She was pretty light, lighter than he remembered, and it was another reminder that she needed to eat. He’d fix her up her side now, and later he’d see what food he could find. There was bound to be some protein bars, and given the bloodloss, he’d get her to eat before she slept.

  Even if he had to feed her himself. They had food here. Sure, it wasn’t a lot _ , _ but it was enough to survive. It was enough that Beth could eat her fair share, and more, and they’d be okay.

    Daryl walked fast and light, and as careful as he could manage. He eyed the house that the group stayed in but decided against it. He didn’t want anyone around, as that had been why they’d left the infirmary. They’d ask questions and but in. Not to mention how they would stare at her, like she was a victim rather than a survivor. She didn’t need any of that shit.

  No, he wanted to be alone so he could work without prying eyes.

  Instead of the house they all shared, he went to the house next door. It’d been provided to them, but no one ever stayed in it. Most of the furniture had been stripped for the sake of other homes, but it’d have a bathroom, and that’s all he needed.

  Daryl stepped up the porch stairs, careful not to jostle her more than needed. With a jab of his elbow, he knocked the door handle downwards. It’d been enough for him to push the door the rest of the way open. He kicked it closed with his foot, and didn’t think much of the sound it made.

  It might have broken, but that wasn’t the focus. She sounded like she was sleeping, given the lack of sounds beyond her laboured breaths.

  “You gotta stay with me.” He growled that command out, the panic more evident in his voice than he liked.

  Once he got into the upstairs bathroom he flicked on the light with his elbow and then moved to carefully sit her down on the countertop. His hands came to rest at her cheeks, to check her eyes. Once satisfied she was still with him, 

  “We’re in the house next door.”He told her hoping she wouldn’t ask why he had brought her here because honestly he couldn’t really give her an answer. He took a step back from her after a moment once he was sure she could hold herself up because he could hear the sleep in her voice and he was worried she’d just pass out. 

  Daryl moved toward the sink beside her, to wash the grime from his hands. He snatched up the soap, and dug out all the dirt he’d normally ignore. He needed to be cautious with her wound, or it’d get infected. No way in hell Daryl was going to be responsible for further damage to her, because of grubby hands.

  Once he had washed his hands he dried them on the towel and then shrugged off his backpack moving to get all the supplies out and setting them carefully on the counter.

  “Take off your shirt.” Daryl said it, so it was close to a demand. It didn’t matter either way, given it wasn’t about that. All he cared about right now was what he needed to do to care for her.

...

  When Beth’s rear hit a solid countertop, she felt relief and disappointment mixed together. The warmth had reassured her, and all she wanted was to slip back into that. It’d be nice, to just go to sleep. Then she could wake up, and find out it had been an awful nightmare. There was no way known she was sliced up and hurling cookies, or that she’d killed a man. Another man, she corrected herself.

  There’s the clink of tools against stone, and the softer sounds of bandages and cotton buds. It was the warning sounds of what was to come.

  Beth could deal with pain. She’d received stitches twice now, and suffered through a damn bullet wound to the head. She would not be beat by a few scratched ribs, and a tear down her side. Even if  _ scratched _ downplayed the depth of them. He’d definitely hit something in his mad slashes.

  The request to remove her shirt was met with a sharp head turn, and a subsequent wince.

  Beth got it, truly, she did. It was the same treatment she’d be afforded by any medical professional, and it didn’t mean a thing. Daryl was here to give her stitches, and she sorely needed them. He’d patched up himself and others when her father had been busy, and he’d been apt with it. She’d always meant to ask how he’d learned to stitch people up. She hoped it was a good story, maybe he’d taken a course, or…

  Except when she thought about it more, Beth didn’t want to ask. Just in case it wasn’t as good a story as she hoped it was.

  Her shirt and bra were useless at this point. Both had been ripped across the seams, and yeah, she  _ could _ fix them, but she wouldn’t. She was sick of the yellow polo, and the bra wasn’t anything special. She glanced down over herself, lips pursed, to then cast a dubious look at Daryl.

  “Nothin’  _ personal _ but, ah -- could you get me something to change into, after?” Beth wanted to ask if it was necessary to take off the shirt and bra, but she didn’t want to imply distrust. Because Daryl had, had plenty of chances to take advantage of her, and he hadn’t. He was downright shy most of the time, once the dust settled from laughter or an argument.

  Something told her this wasn’t some grand master plan to see her shirtless. Daryl wasn’t that sort of man.

  There’s a resolute sigh from Beth as she slid from the counter. She snatched up a towel from the rack on the wall. It was crisp and white, likely part of a very expensive set. She turned away to shimmy out of the shirt and bra, whatever was  _ left _ of them, and drew the towel to her chest. She’d already gotten blood on it, but that was a future problem.

  Beth sat on the toilet, lid down. It was then she’d noticed Daryl was turned away, too. She wanted to laugh, but didn’t. Instead she cleared her throat, eyebrows raised. She sleepily blinked at him, freezing in the tilted bathroom, her jeans crinkling as the blood set.

  This was awful.

  Not the being shirtless thing, she was  _ beyond _ caring about such things, but just how this had all went down. She had been left in Alexandria for her own safety, and only ended up injured. She worked so hard to get here, to prove herself.

  Except okay, yeah, this wasn’t an ideal first trip to third base. Beth had never pictured it as a bloody affair, where a man twice her age was suturing her back together. She was at least glad the man in question was Daryl. She offered a smile, eyes vague, expression lost.

…

    Daryl didn’t take her request personally. It figured that she would need clean clothes to change into after he stitched her up, and after she got out of the shower. It would have been redundant to pull back on the ripped, dirty clothing so he would happily find her clean clothes. 

  “Yeah, I’ll find ya somethin’ clean.”

_ Clean _ being the operative word. She needed to keep her cut clean, and he’d do anything to help with that.

    Daryl hoped there were still clothes here, put away in a closet or in a dresser. Hell, maybe even find something  _ comfortable _ . Worst case, he could go next door if he had to, but he’d rather not. There would be questions as to why he needed clothes, or where he had taken Beth.

  The rest didn’t need to know what had happened here, just that Beth was okay. He had taken care of her, and he’d continue to take care of her, because she deserved as much after he’d been such an asshole. His eyes flickered from the assortment of tools, to her. 

  Beth had turned away to tug at the fabric that covered her, and he turned around out of respect. Last thing he wanted to do was watch her undress, like some creep. Especially not now, when she was vulnerable and entrusted him to help her.

    Daryl waited until he heard the creak of the toilet seat, and the little throat sound she’d made to catch his attention. He guessed that she had sat down, so he turned, once he knew it was  _ safe _ . He passingly noticed the towel in her arms, but the rest was a blur. Wide eyes, pale skin, and too much blood.

  Daryl picked up the gauze, and ripped the packaging open with his teeth. He held it over the sink to pour the rubbing alcohol onto it, to clean the cut. He’d make damn sure that the wound was disinfected before he even thought about stitches.

  Most people people wouldn’t think suturing was something he was good at, what with his large hands and aggressive handling. The reality was, he’d had to become good at stitches. He’d stitched up Merle when he’d gotten into a fight, and he’d pass through the Dixon household. Daryl had been a teenager, just past thirteen, locked up in their crusty bathroom with a do-it-yourself stitches kit.

  Neither could afford to go to the hospital, so Merle would return the favor when Daryl fought a kid in the neighbourhood over shit Daryl couldn't even recall. Dumb shit. Things that had been stolen, a girl someone liked, bad weed, meaningless shit. 

  Once Merle left proper, Daryl ended up stitching up himself. Everywhere except his back; it was too hard to reach, and so that was where all the scars bubbled over. His father hadn’t cared, and Daryl guessed he didn’t care, either.

  It was what it was.

  Once he got the gauze soaked in alcohol, he moved over to sit on the edge of the bathtub. He faced her, her left side pointed towards him, the blood a nasty crust of pus and dirt. He shifted closer, his knees knocked against her thigh. They were close, but they had to be, for a lot more reasons than the cut.

  “’S gonna sting.”

  It went without saying, but Daryl wanted to make sure she knew. He reached forward, as gentle with his movements as he could be. He knew that it would sting, but the liquid was cold and that wouldn’t help matters any. He worked from the bottom of the largest gash first, gently brushing the gauze against it, the rubbing alcohol foaming slightly as it hit the open wound. 

…

  You wouldn’t think they’d fought before the parade had begun, given the amicable silence and how easily Beth followed his directions. There was no apologies to give, on either account. Their fight had been a miscommunication, a mistake, but it was one they both acknowledged. And they’d both moved on from it, if this was any indication.

  The litter of corpses outside reinforced what life was now. It was short, and bitter, and you didn’t get to apologize, or say goodbye. You only had the moment, the present, and if you were lucky, you got a tomorrow. Given her spinning head and woozy stomach, Beth felt stupid for her anger at Daryl.

  If Beth had gone out to help with the wall, she could have very well passed out, and she’d slow down the works. She’d not been sleeping well, or eating proper, and it showed. Beth had remained here, in Alexandria, and she needed to  _ remember _ what life was now.

  Life was no longer what it had been at Grady, where you had to justify your worth, and earn your place. Not in the same way. Beth needed to try for her family, not for herself. It wasn’t a selfish place, it was a home. It had to be.

  Beth had her face buried in her arm, with the towel pressed against her bare chest. Daryl probably wouldn’t even notice or care, but she did. It was a little scrap of the old world, inclined to keep her  _ shy _ . It wasn’t some great mystery; she had  _ breasts _ .

  What a revelation.

  Daryl hadn’t even looked in her direction as she’d undressed. He was attached to the old world values too, then. That, and he was focused on her injured side. Beth was incredibly thankful he had been, given how the adrenaline had dulled over her hurt.

  There’s a hiss against the cool liquid and hot burn, the gauze a painful  _ slice _ of a thing against her side.

  The way he handled her reminded Beth of when she’d gotten her foot caught in a trap. He’d been quick to her side, helpful, and informed. Not angry, or scolding, just soothing words, and gentle touches, and he was worried.

The persistent sting of antibacterial crap wasn’t the best mood setter. There’s a hiss, low and private, because she had been through worse. Beyond the initial sound, she dug her teeth into her lip, and let whatever frustrated tears formed die on the towel.

   The fact he knew how to do this without her direction wasn’t a surprise. Daryl was intelligent, but he disguised it behind silence. 

  This went on for too long. The upside was, this burn would numb her to the stitches. It was sweet though, how gentle he was. She’d seen him work before, and it’d not surprised her. He worked with engines, and his crossbow, and both had delicate parts. Even guns required finesse.

  Beth peeked sideways, to see where he was at. It’d reached near the top, and she’d only made a few soft sounds of discontent. She felt pretty  _ proud _ of that, her lips quirked at the edges.

  “Just sucks -- and  _ hurts _ .” She near laughed, her face buried back into the towel. “Thank you, though. You’re doin’ fine.” She added, to make up for her complaint.

...

    Daryl wanted to work as fast as possible to spare her the pain, but more importantly, he needed to be thorough. He wasn’t about to lose her to an infection. No, he had to take his time and be gentle and make sure he got every part of the cut clean before he could stitch it up.

  Daryl reached the top of the cut, and finished up with slow gentle stroke down the length. He wanted all of this to be over, because she was in a lot of pain. It showed in the tense of her ribs, and the soft hisses. Once he was done, she could shower, and eat, and then he’d let her go to bed.

    All he wanted was for Beth  to wash off this mess of a day and get some much needed rest. He hadn’t realized how tired he was, as it hadn’t hit him yet. They each had two very  _ different _ days but both equally as eventful.

  Beth had killed a man, and he had blown up a group of eight of them. He’d not even blinked as he shot the rocket off at the group of men, to save Abraham and Sasha. Beth had killed a man. She’d slit his throat, which was a lot more up close and personal. They both had a shitty day, and they could talk about it later.

  Or not, whichever. 

  Daryl offered her a nod, teeth bared in a smile that she’d not see.

  “Sorry, I know this sucks.” Despite the brave face Beth put on for him, this had to hurt. He knew that she was strong, and she didn’t have to mask the pain for his benefit. His eyes roved over the cut, to ensure the length of it was clean. The lower part, by her hip, that’d be fine. It was the cut by her ribs that worried him most.

  “Now to the hard part.” He tossed the bloodied gauze into wire trashcan beside her. His knee knocked hers as he got up to see to set up the needles and string.

    It took him a moment to set up, as his thick fingers fumbled over the materials. After a patient moment, he got the sutures knotted at the end of the needle, a set frown on his face. He moved to sit back down at the end of the bath tub.

  This was the hard part, given that it would hurt more than when he’d cleaned her side.

  “Just think, s’halfway done, girl.” Daryl hoped that thought would help, even if it was only his rough hands and rasped words. He held his breath for a moment as he moved to pierce her flesh with the needle toward the top first, it was the deepest part of the cut where the knife had first made impact. 

…

  The swabbing was over, though the lingering burn kept her on edge. Her toes wriggled within her boots, to distract from the sensations at her side. The pain, from the wound and the burn, and the gentle touch of strong hands. It shouldn’t surprise her, how Daryl had splintered off with her. They had been so dependent on one another before they’d been separated, and she trusted him most of all. She trusted him above everyone else, and it hadn’t occurred to her how  _ much _ that mattered.

  Somewhere along the line Daryl had shifted from growling man at her daddy’s farm to a friend; a  _ best  _ friend. She didn’t even know if he’d let her call him that, or if he’d dismiss her, so she kept that to herself. It was a nice thought, that allowed her to ignore the clatter of preparation.

  “It’s my fault for getting hit. Should’a jumped faster.” There’s a heavy sigh through her nose, and her chin is now rested on top of her arm. The other arm is still bent around her ribs and chest, to hold the towel in place.

  Beth chanted over and over in her mind, that she was strong, she  _ was,  _ and that this would all be over soon. If she cried, it’d only make it worse. The shifts of her lungs and diaphragm would shake his work, and everything would take longer to do. The logic of it clung to her, but it didn’t make it easier.

  Beth appreciated the fact he was  _ reassuring _ her. Her eyes sought out something in the room, to distract herself with. There were patterns on the tiles, yellow circles and blue swirls, like an abstract ocean. If she  _ focused _ on them, she’d be okay --

  Except this distraction game didn’t stop the cry of pain that ripped from her. It didn’t stop the subsequent ones, though each softened. The first had hurt the worst. And it still hurt, no matter how careful he was, or how practiced he was. It was still swollen skin, long since torn up by a rancid blade.

  Her hands were like claws, all angles, clutched at the countertop and the towel, only to  _ grip _ at each insertion. The tears formed and fell into the plush of the towel, the white a pinkish red like the cookies had been. She could taste bile and blood, and she wanted to sleep, so, so badly.

_ This sucked, this sucked, this sucked. _

  Beth burrowed her face into the towel, arms curled around the towel, and she hugged herself. There were soft curse words lost to the towel, because they were directionless. She didn’t blame Daryl for this. She was  _ thankful _ for his help. The cut ran the length of her ribs, her side, and tapered off at the front of her hip. She didn’t think the front would need stitches though. It was only really from her ribs down to her slight flare of a hip that’d been sliced open.

  The process took too long. Really, it’d been no more than fifteen minutes at  _ worst,  _ but it felt longer.

  There was a tap to her arm, and no further  _ pricks _ , so Beth forced herself out of her cocoon. Her arms were still locked around her torso. Her face emerged from the towel, with bright red cheeks and wet eyes. There’s a subtle quiver to the corners of her lips, but no anguish was on her face. Because this wasn’t sadness, this was  _ pain. _ She peeked down, no words, her arm shifted.

  There was a series of neat, clean stitches, and she wanted to cry from relief instead of pain.

  “Thank you.”

  It’s not enough. Daryl gave and gave, and she had nothing she could give him in return. She couldn’t even keep herself together for the duration of the stitches, and she’d cried. Her hands mashed across her face, though they were too dirty to do much of anything. Despite her side being clean, the rest of her was a mess.

…

  The archer shot her a look when she had blamed herself for getting hit, was she really blaming herself for getting stabbed? It wasn’t like she was asking for it, things just happened that way. She had fought to stay alive, and sustained a cut in the process. It didn’t matter about the details, because whatever she’d done, it had worked.

  You did what you needed to do in order to survive, that’s the way the world was now. 

_ ‘It’s my fault for getting hit. _ ’

  That sounded like something that he would say.

  In fact, that was something that he  _ had _ said, somewhere in the midst of his childhood, and his father’s care. He didn’t like it when Beth said it. She had no reason to blame herself. She had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or maybe it’d been the right place, or the right time. Maybe things would have ended  _ worse _ , if she’d been anywhere else. He might not have found her, or she could have bled out in one of the houses, or the walkers...

  Daryl couldn’t think about that right now. He needed to focus on the stitches, and her side. It would be a continuous stitch, to keep the flesh lined up. She’d just have to not do anything too laborious until it healed, which could take weeks, or months.

  Thankfully the entire wound didn’t need stitches, just the top half as the bottom half of it wasn’t as deep and must have been the tail end. She’d jumped away from the blade, she had said as much. It showed in the angle and the depth, how deep it’d been to how light. While he knew he had helped her, there was a constant pang of guilt as she tried to disguise her sobs.

  Every time that her breath hitched or her stomach twitched from when the needle would pierce the flesh, he worked faster. He wanted this to be over, he wanted this entire  _ day _ to be over with. It had been a hell of a day for him, but it’d clearly been worse for her. Between the difference in wound, and in the kills they’d witnessed, Daryl would take it all if it meant she wasn’t in pain.

  When Daryl finished the stitch, he moved to reach over to grab the scissors cutting off the end of the sutur. He kept it short, to prevent any snags. That always sucked, and Merle hadn’t paid much attention to that part of a stitch.

  Daryl had been gentler with her than he’d ever been before, but the work was still brutal. He felt sick at the sight of his hands, her blood across his fingers and palms. Her blood on his hands,  _ again _ . Daryl shoved the scissors aside, along with the needle and tweezers.

   Daryl gently tapped on her arm to let her know that the worst was over and now the healing could begin. “Don’t mention it.” He murmured softly when she thanked him, he noticed how red her face was and the tears.

  It hurt to look at so he averted his gaze to the wound. He carefully ran his fingers down the length of the stitches to make sure it was clean and there would be no snagging when she were to put clothes on. His fingers stopped by her hip, above the brown belt, and the bloodied denim.

  It dawned on him that she was half naked here in the bathroom with him. He jerked his hand away like her skin was a overused radiator, all heat and bubbling skin. He cleared his throat awkwardly, his gaze now set on the decorative mat on the floor.

  “You,, uh – if you take a shower, I’ll go find y’somethin’ clean.”

…

  There’s muck on the floor, and blood on the counter, and the pair of them were no cleaner. There’s also an awful need to itch at her side, but Beth resisted. She knew better than to rabidly scratch at her skin, because it was going to scar well enough on its own. Her fingertips cautiously pressed at her skin, away from the edge of her stitches. Her hands were caked in blood.

  Really, all of her was, save for that section that Daryl had very kindly cleaned off. The whole exchange was oddly reassuring, even though she’d had an awful day. Her internal system of questions kicked in, to assess the damage. Beth was alive, and she had all her limbs, and Daryl was here, so it couldn’t have been that bad.

  It could always be  _ worse. _

__ So far as she was concerned, she had gotten off lightly. Her head would even out, she knew, and her side would heal. It’d take time, but it’d happen. Maybe it wouldn’t even be that noticeable, though she would deal with it. Scars were something she’d become very used to.

  Despite his averted attention, Beth was pleased. He’d insisted on her being tended to, and in light of what had happened to Carl, he’d taken it upon himself. He’d been very proper and practical about it, and it was sort of amusing how  _ polite _ he could be.

  Not all the time, but when it mattered, he could be a gentleman.

  “That’d be nice.” Beth bopped her head sideways to catch his downward gaze. When there was no such luck, no  _ returned _ eye contact, she let out a scoffed laugh.

  Beth edged closer to him, enough to loop an arm around his neck. She sat forward carefully, so as to not overstretch herself, or drop her towel. It was an awkward hug, but it was needed on her part, and undoubtedly on his. When he’d grabbed her at the makeshift infirmary, she’d been gone. Whether the loss of blood, or the fear for Carl’s life, she couldn’t say.

  The main thing was, he’d been there for her when she hadn’t even realized she’d needed someone. For that, he deserved a hug. He met her with a slow, heavy arm, and she smiled all the wider.

  “Thanks again,  _ Dr. _ Dixon.” It was an upgrade from  _ mister.  _ Beth drew back, her smile fond as he dashed out of the room.

  There was a mat in the middle of the floor which’d made him wobble, but he’d recovered. She didn’t even laugh, just watched, sleepy eyes and a kind smile. Whether she was always sleepy, or just that Daryl made her feel safe enough to  _ be _ sleepy, she couldn’t say.

  Beth pushed herself up from the toilet, teeth grit against the pain. He’d kindly closed the door behind him, so she stripped off her boots, her jeans, all the blood patchy and sticky in every awful way. The water was on, and she was inside and -- 

  God, it  _ hurt _ , but she needed to do this.

  There’s a cry of pain when she turned to distribute the water. When the hot water landed, she snapped her hand flat against the tiled wall. It was a tense moment, of adjustment, and angry sounds, but it lifted. The warmth numbed the pain, and made it a little easier to move around. She looked down at all the blood that swirled around her feet, the smell revived in her nostrils. Hot, wet and coppery, wrapped around her throat and nose.

  Beth worked through it, scrubbing at every inch of her body.

…

    Honestly the only thing Daryl could think about was the fact that he needed to get out of the bathroom. He needed to give her some space, and she sorely needed to take a shower. All he could think about was how this fucking  _ abysmal _ day needed to be over, for everyone. Beth would get dressed, and they’d go back next door and hopefully be greeted by some good news. They’d hear that Carl was okay, and then they’d both hit the hay. Or she would. He’d likely not sleep. He was beat, but not tired.

  Right now, Daryl was trying his hardest not to think about how she was shirtless, because it wasn’t the time. It was never going to be the time, to think about that sort of shit. He’d tamped that down at the prison, and he’d ignored it through their time alone together.

  It’d all crystallized when Daryl had touched the sutures, to make sure nothing would snag. It was then he’d realized how  _ exposed _ she was to him; how comfortable she was in that state around him; how he could never see himself being shirtless around her.

  All because the crisscross of scars that decorated his back, they were something to be embarrassed about by his reckoning. Sure, she had scars, but she had hers from surviving. The ones on his back were from his father's belt, when he’d not had anyone there to help him.

  There were a few other pale purple slivers, bunched and bubbled up from his back. The newer ones didn’t faze him. It was the older ones, the ones that had a clear origin outside of this world, that caused him to lock up with fear. How would he handle those doe eyes as she looked over his patchwork of cruelty and neglect?

  Daryl couldn’t even handle how she looked at his hand, at the only scar that was self-inflicted. Beth had one of those too, but hers were from a shard of glass cutting her own wrists. She had grown since the farm. She wanted to live now, she had fought to stay alive. He had lost that drive when Beth was gone. He lost the drive to push forward and keep going.

  Before Daryl could dart out of the room, she was pressed up against his chest. He sat there awkwardly, unsure of what to do. After a long moment, he set an arm around her shoulder, to hug her back gently.

  A small grin tugged on his lips at the mention of  _ Dr. _ rather than Mr. He’d take it.

  Once Beth pulled away, he bolted across the bathroom slipping on the decorative rug. He cursed all the way out, down the hall, the door long since slammed behind him.

  Daryl went into the bedroom a few doors down. There were drawers, and a built-in wardrobe. There was bound to be something in here. The clothes in the first few drawers were all far too big for her. She had to be so damn small, didn’t she.

  At the bottom of the drawer he found a pair of what looked like small pajamas. They would never in a million years fit him, so he figured they’d fit her. They were pink and had little white polka dots on them and they looked comfortable.

  Beth deserved to be comfortable.

  Daryl did his best to fold them back up before going back to the bathroom. A frown was set on his lips as he heard her, the cries of pain between the spatter of water. He knocked on the door, and set the pajamas down on the floor.

  “The clothes are out here when you’re ready.”

  Rather than wait by the door, he set off to the bedroom. It was empty, save for the dresser he’d rummaged through..

…

  It was hard to scrub at all the caked blood, but it had to be done. She’d never been _squeamish_ about blood. She couldn’t afford to be, given the whole _Aunt_ _Flo_ visit each month. But this was a wholly different sort of distaste, as the blood had not formed from an accident, or from herself, but from a murder.

  Beth watched as her skin turned from blood red to pink, rubbed raw from her effort. She might have overworked her flesh, but it wouldn’t feel clean. Every time she thought she’d gotten it all, another patch would make itself known. It was likely psychological, this unclean feeling to her expanse of her chest and legs, and through her hair. It’d spread as much from her as it had from him, and she may never forget the  _ smell. _

__ Once she had used up the small supply of soap,  _ lavender _ , she thought with disquiet in her veins, she just stood. She stood, head down, water running the length of her hair and neck, shoulders, down. A shower was a luxury now, and one she greedily embraced. Her mind was blank, as was her face, and she thought there should be more.

  Beth should be upset about the murder, or upset about the loss of Alexandrians, but all she felt was numb. There’s a clinical knowledge inside her that reminded her that she was alive, and wasn’t that the main thing? Her expression broke into a thick sob, hands pressed to her face, and her fingers pushed back the tears into her eyes.

  No more  _ crying _ . Not about how fucked up you are, not even if it hurts, how little you  _ hurt _ . There’s that physical pang when she breathed too hard, in her ribs and throat, but no emotional response. There should be one, to the sight of a man with a slit throat, eyes wide, mouth formed into a surprised little circle, teeth sneered at her, but no. All she can feel is thankful, thankful that she was here, and he was going to  _ rot.  _ He’d be thrown out into the woods, because they didn’t bury murderers within the walls of Alexandria.

  There’s a voice by the door, matched with the gentle knock. Beth drew herself back together like a puppet, head raised, head turned. She pushed out a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, to bring the light back to her voice.

  “I’ll be out in a moment!” Her voice was as gentle as his, sing-song, but fake. He’d pick up on it, she knew. It was better to try, than to admit out loud that she was fractured. Her hands smoothed through her hair, and the water had since run cold. She turned off the shower, and approached the door. For modesty, she’d wrapped a new towel around her middle.

  Beth peeked out into the hallway, to see nothing. On the floor was a set of pink pajamas with little white dots. “Oh, those are sweet.” One hand remained on the towel, the other to snatch the clothes off the floor. She’d figured he would be outside the door with them, but no.

  There was a pause, where she weighed them in her hand. She looked curiously down the hall, but all she could hear was the rattle of drawers and things being shifted around.

  It only took a minute to dry off and slip on the clothes. She had no underwear, which sucked, but she wasn’t about to send Daryl on a panty run. She’d take it for the night, and source some underwear tomorrow. Wasn’t a big  _ thing _ .

  Once changed, Beth stepped cautiously down the hallway. She peeked into two smaller rooms, empty of furniture. They may have been bedrooms, or a study, but they were empty now.

  The towel set over her shoulders, so her wet hair would seep into the towel. Her skin was still pink from the hot water, and her hair was thick tendrils of blonde, darker for the water. There was a tinge of red to it all, but that’d leave quick enough. It was only really clear to her.

  In the third room, closest to the stairs, she spotted him. He was shuffling through the dresser, which was likely left because of its size. Beds and small tables could be used elsewhere, but a dresser was too much of a hassle to remove. She watched him quietly from the door, but he’d likely heard her coming. His ears were too keen  _ not _ to hear her.

  “Thanks f’the pajamas. And, everything.” Beth raised her arms, admiring the pink polka dot sleeves. “They’re a bit big, but I kinda like when things are big.” She waggled her arms, to watch the fabric drown her hands. When he’d turned, she let her arms drop, eyes set on his figure, to discern if  _ he _ was okay.

  Beth stepped into the room, arms now crossed. It was a protective gesture, for her damaged ribs. Her fingers probed the cut through the fabric, which only made her wince. She wanted to know how  _ bad _ it was, to know how much she could stand. It’d be better in a few days, if she was lucky. Good enough that it’d only hurt a little.

…

    While he waited for her he looked around the bedroom where he’d found the pajamas. There were photos on the dresser, in minimalist frames. He picked up one of the bigger white frames, to examine the people in it. No one he recognized from Alexandria.

  They looked like a happy family, whoever they were. Mom, dad and two little boys. Though they were in this photo, they had been long gone from this place. Daryl silently hoped they’d stayed together, wherever the hell they had ended up.

  Daryl set the picture down, and rummaged through the drawers.

  When he had searched for clothes, for Beth, he hadn’t had the chance to go through everything. He’d been set on finding something  _ small _ that would fit her. He had no idea that she would take so long in the shower.

  Maybe it wasn’t that long, but it just felt long. He was anxious to see how she was, to check on her stitches if he needed to, to get her that food he’d thought about earlier. He wanted to see if she was okay, or if she needed someone to talk to.

  No, he sucked at the talking part. Words didn’t come easily to him, and he had to think carefully before he spoke. But he was a great listener. He could offer her a nod, or a shoulder to cry on if she needed it. Daryl opened up the top drawer and noticed a small wooden box inside. He looked at it curiously before he flipped the top open.

  Inside was all sorts of jewelry, from rings to necklaces. It was nothing of interest to him, and he nearly closed it. There was a flicker of gold, in a circular shape. He reopened the top properly, thick fingers dug through the chains and sharp edges.

  It was a gold necklace, with a sun pendant dangling from it. It was a thick swirl, that sorely reminded him of Beth’s hair, and the beams radiating out of it only reinforced that. He examined it, over the plethora of gems, which couldn’t be real. But it was still  _ pretty _ , and the sort of thing he could see around Beth’s neck.

  That’s why he had pulled it from the jewelry box, because it reminded him of Beth. His thumb ran across the surface of it, over the bumps and ridges. He should have tucked it back into the box, and tossed it all away, but it kept it in hand. What, was he going to  _ give _ it to her?

  That would take courage that he didn’t have. 

  Daryl heard the approach of footsteps, and the girl by the door. He shoved the gold pendant into the pocket of his pants, not fussed as it nearly cut his hand open from the roughness of the gesture. He closed the dresser drawer before he turned to Beth, his cheeks a shade of pink. With the expression on his face, he looked like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

  If he had planned to give it to Beth, then why the hell did he stuff it in his pocket?

  Maybe it wasn’t the right time. After the day they had, it wouldn’t be right. The necklace was a symbol for her, how she reminded him of the sun and he would give it to her on a  _ good _ day. When he worked up the courage, and could look her in the eye without a pep talk.

  “Don’t mention it.” He rolled his shoulders as his gaze shifted, from her face to the the pajamas she was wearing. He was sure the pajamas would had fit her snugly, but they were still too big on her. She wasn’t swimming in them, but the pants were a bit long and the sleeves hid the majority of her hands. Why did she have to be so damn  _ small _ .

  While the pajamas weren’t practical, he could appreciate how she looked in them. It was closer to the world she’d been in before, no doubt, at one of those sleepover things that women did.

  A frown tugged on his lips as he noticed her wincing. “’s gonna be real tender for a while, try and be careful.” He shifted his gaze back up to her big doe eyes, briefly, to then look back at the floor.

  “You wanna talk about it?”

…

  There’s a shy urgency in Daryl’s posture which Beth noticed, and let go. There was no sense to dwell in his motions and movements, if he had something to disguise. It would come to the surface if it was important, or she’d be able to ask about it later. Except the term  _ later _ was thrown around too much for her liking.

  If today had been any sign, she wouldn’t always have later. There was only the here and now, and right  _ now, _ she had Daryl, and he had her. It’d always return to this point, she knew. No matter how things went, they’d always form back together. She only hoped each time wasn’t the  _ last _ time.

  Beth had pulled her boots back on, but her discarded clothes had been left in a messy pile in the bathroom. She’d salvage the jeans tomorrow, but the rest was probably beyond help. She stepped into the room to take a seat in the middle of the floor, legs crisscrossed, her hand still perched against her side.

  The hurt would fade, but right now, the pressure at least kept it a persistent ache instead of sharp stabs. She wriggled her shoulders up to pinch the towel against her cheeks, her eyes set on him.

  “Talk about what?” Beth looked him over, her tone empty. She sighed through her nose, because she wasn’t dumb. She knew what he meant. Her blinks became more frequent, and she had to look down to the floor. The blood was clean from her, but it stuck. The smell wasn’t completely masked by the lavender soap, but there was  _ every _ chance that it was her imagination. 

  “I did what I had t’do.” The darkness allowed her to disguise her face, because no doubt the numbness from earlier was back again, to distort her face against her will. “Did  _ you _ wanna talk about it?”

  Beth looked back up at him, with determined eyes and a set jaw. She didn’t have a thing to hide, not about Grady, not about today. She would tell him, if he asked. She wasn’t in any position to hide things from Daryl. She may glance over the nature of some of her encounters, because it would only make Daryl  _ worry _ .

  There was nothing to be done for what had happened at Grady, as it would go away with time. It’d fade, and fade, and one day she’d be free of that place.

…

 

  It was hard to imagine that hours ago the little blonde in the polkadot pajamas had killed a man.

  It was also hard to imagine that the girl back at the farm, who didn’t even know how to hold a knife, had used one to save her own life. While he wanted to tell her that he was proud of her, he figured right now was the wrong time.

  Just like right now was the wrong time to give her the necklace that was now kept in his pocket. It seemed like the timing was never right for them. No matter what, something always came up and stood in their way. At least this time it was a murder she had enacted, and not her own death. He couldn’t handle that again.

  Daryl shot her a look as she asked what they could talk about. He could think of a million different things that all involved what happened tonight. He’d likely come up with more if he widened his net, but he didn’t.

  Instead a quiet sigh escaped his lips, and he noticed how he towered over her. He moved to sit across from her, to match her crisscrossed legs. They were only a foot apart, and he kept a firm level of attention on her. He watched for grief, or illness, or even pain, but nothing.

  Her tone was empty and the look on her face was blank, this was  _ bad _ .

  It killed him to see her like this. All he wanted to do was make it better, but he knew that he couldn’t even do that. Just like the wound to her ribs, this would take time to heal. The problem was, no amount of time would ever  _ completely _ heal anything.

  There would be scars from this night and no amount of time would make them go away. No matter how badly he wanted to fix this, there was nothing he could do. Nothing beyond the practical, to ensure her side healed, and that she got the food and sleep she needed. He’d worry over her, and keep her under his thumb, because someone had to do it.

  “I know ya did.” Daryl knew that she wasn’t happy about what she did, but it needed to be done. It was her or him, and she made the right choice.

  Daryl shook his head as there was nothing that he really wanted to talk about, the day had been hell and he didn’t want to live it over and over again. Not like Daryl was one to talk anyway. He drew his attention from the floor up, to look her over once more. It hurt to look at her, because he could tell how much pain she was in–not just from her cut but the internal struggle going on in her mind.

  “If you wanted to talk, I’d listen.”

  Beth didn’t say a word after that, just quietly sat. Daryl matched this, all until they set off towards the main house. Sleep wasn’t what he wanted, but it was what they both needed. She mumbled a goodnight, and he’d grunted in return, and that was that.

  Daryl would listen, but that required Beth to  _ speak _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Reference for the necklace.](https://66.media.tumblr.com/8d10010476ed27493ee675330d199f73/tumblr_o6ugx8QLtC1upv5ryo1_400.jpg)


	8. nothing like sleep.

  Daryl had a nasty habit of staring at the ceiling, ears keened to the sounds outside. It had started out as a defense mechanism against his father, and become useful as a hunter. When the apocalypse started, his observation skills were essential. The only downside was how hard it made it for him to sleep, given any breath or crackle of branches caused him to tense, ready.

  Tonight was all the worse, for the thoughts and worries that circled between his ears. It heightened his paranoia and elevated his heart rate, and it was all so damn stupid. It started with the parade, given that it’d been drawn away by a truck horn. Things only got worse from there, as he’d lost his crossbow, and motorcycle, and that asshole Dwight was to blame.

  Daryl knew he’d screwed up. He shouldn’t have gone back with that bag, even if it’d been the right thing to do. But he knew that he couldn’t be the one to kill that girl, by denying her medication he had no immediate use for.

  Even though in the end, she died in a gesture of kindness, too sweet for a world so bleak.

  Life was funny like that.

  No, that he’d all come to terms with on his trip home. He’d find Dwight, kill the fucker, and that was that. The real stress came when he’d gotten home, to see the walkers, the wall down, the bodies -- the place had turned upside down. Deanna was gone, dozens others were injured or worse, and Beth…

  He’d long since stopped his staring contest with the ceiling, to watch Beth. She kept up with squeaks of pain. Whether she moved or breathed, they’d sound, softly. If she were awake, she’d hide them. It was better that she let them out, he thought.

  When his eyelids drooped and his head tilted sideways, it wasn’t sleep that found him. It was something ethereal, ready to rip his heart out and piss in his wounds. He fought and failed, his eyes unwillingly closed.

  Usually when he slept out of exhaustion, he’d be out like a rock. But no, life liked to really twist the knife once it’d found purchase.

_     Sasha, Abraham and Daryl rolled up to the gates in the fuel truck–the place was in shambles. The wall was down and there was walkers everywhere. The first thought he had was of Beth. _

_   Where was she in all this? Daryl needed to help get this town back in order. He quickly got out of the truck dumping the gasoline into the creek before climbing on top of the truck. He saw people fighting off in the distance and he quickly moved to shoot the rocket launcher and causing flames to go up, the dead walking toward the flames and burning up. _

_   It was like a scene from a horror film, but it was all the same as earlier. _

_   But it’s not the same. He heard crying, soft and quiet–Beth.  _

_    It isn’t from any one spot; it’s all around him, from the ground, the sky, from inside his own chest, but he ran. He ran towards the medical center, and the town, and the prison, and the farmhouse, and it’s a patchwork of places, fences, chain link, wood, and then there’s a series of gravestones. _

_   Daryl called out her name, but it wouldn’t sound over the cries. They ranged from upset to excruciating, a spectrum of upset that he couldn’t fix. That’s when he saw her, a curled up girl in a yellow polo, blonde hair, pale skin, lit up like a blood moon. There’s too much blood to be all hers, but it’s there, from her, from throat to hip. _

_   ”No–no, no no. Stay with me alright, ‘m gonna get you to Denise.” _

_   Daryl knelt by her, to then snatch her up into his arms. She was too cold and heavy, like she had been at the hospital. There’s copper in the air, and no color n her face. It’s worse now, there’s no crying, there’s no sounds from here. There’s nothing in her face, but there’s a pair of scissors in her hand and too much blood from her forehead. _

_   “It doesn’t hurt anymore.” There’s a sad smile, and no pulse. Her eyes glazed over, and there was nothing. Daryl wanted to shake her awake, but he couldn’t. He cradled her, on his knees, forehead tucked into the crook of her neck, too-keen ears desperate for a sign. _

_   Then a crack of a door --  _

    Daryl jolted awake, and near strained his neck for because of it. He kept any sounds tamped down, thankfully, but his breathing was far too quick. Sweat was all over him, as if he’d been in a pond. There’s blood running through him, adrenaline, and a salty sting to his eyes, but he’d not acknowledge that. It was sweat. Daryl scrubbed at his eyes with the heels of his palms, too aggressive to be anything soft like wiping away tears. He wasn’t some damn kid, who sobbed about bad dreams.

  Fucking  _ sweat _ .

  It clicked too late that where he was staring, was where Beth had been sleeping. He looked around, unsure of his bearings. There’s sleeping bodies, most of his family, but no blonde. His dream had been close to the return, save for the misguided efforts of his dream -- nightmare -- whatever the fuck that was.

  It was all the same, except for Beth,  _ right _ ? Her spot was empty, and  the panic set in. He was on his feet in no time, he quickly scurried to his feet, the rest of the house was dark so she wasn’t inside. The room felt like it was spinning and he needed air, he needed to find her. 

  Daryl stepped over the bodies, and took to the outside. He swung the front door open gently, though he felt like anything but gentle. The cool air hit his sweat, and it turned his hot nerves into a chill down his spine. He quietly closed the door behind him, to not wake the others.

  Except there was Beth, the woman he’d just been about to go search for. The blonde was seated on the porch swing, and he felt like he could breathe again.

  Beth was  _ alive _ .

  “You okay?”

  Daryl figured that she wasn’t okay. Something must’ve been going on, for her to be out here in the middle of the night. But then again, Beth wasn’t the one sweating in the cold, and breathing like she’d run a marathon.

…

  While it may be impolite to say so, Beth thought that Alexandria was nothing like what she had been promised.

  Beth had been told it was safe, and that she could be here with her family. So far there had been a quarry full of walkers that had pressed against the walls, a truck through another wall, a tower thathad fallen, and  _ worse _ , there was more bodies than she’d seen in a long while. Dead bodies, not  _ walkers _ .

  There’s a huge difference between a  _ fresh _ dead body, lying still, and a rotting corpse ambling at you. The latter she had grown desensitized to, enough that she could look at them without as much illness taking to her. The former made her pang with old world sympathy that she hadn’t yet shaken off.

  The  _ real _ issue was the people with the sigils carved into their foreheads, looking a lot like a W. They’d broken in, and she couldn’t be sure how. Beth had been at the infirmary in search of Denise, and it’d been a scream.

  Faint, on the other side of the compound. Then another. Closer. People were running, and Daryl’s words returned to her mind.  _ These people don’t know how to fight.  _ The day drew out, and she had hidden, because she was already so dizzy, so bloodied, that she’d be a liability.

  It was her own fault, really.

  One man had made his way in, but he had made the mistake of  _ presuming _ that she was anything like the residents within Alexandria. Where the others had cowered, she squared up, and he lunged – the blood had gotten on her, down her shirt, and mixed with her own. He’d cut across her side, below the ribs, though it was glancing at best.

  There was a scuffle, but she managed to turn a metal tray against him, and that was another death on her hands. She was lucky, though. Her wounds were easily treated, compared to that of Carl, or those who had been fatally wounded. Daryl had neatly stitched her up, and given her a pair of pajamas. She was downright pampered, compared to what others endured.

  At the end of the day, the only lasting issue was that her clothes were ruined, and that was sentimentality that she no longer felt. She’d had her jeans and shirt for months, but she couldn’t get  _ attached _ . The jeans could be salvaged, but the yellow shirt was torn, stained and was thrown away.

  Oddly, Daryl had stuck with her the whole time. He’d made a beeline to her, and pressed calloused hands against her ribs, and held her close. From the moment he’d found her, till they’d returned to the house they all shared.

  Now all she had was a thick bandage around her middle, aa series of stitches, and a pair of plush pink pyjamas with white polka dots. She felt ridiculous in pajamas, but she’d been given them as a gift. There was nothing that fit her, and this was the best they had on offer.

   Sleep hadn’t come easy, and when it did come, all she could feel the blood on her skin. At first it was the man’s blood, then it was Gorman’s, and Dawn’s, and then her own. It came from her head, and she was trying to protect it, to put her hands tightly over it, and keep it there, keep her head protected, but then there was this sickening bang, and crack, and nothing.

  Her body was still, and she wanted to scream. Instead she jerked away, her ribs screaming against the suddenness of the movement, and she let out a cry. The cry turned into real tears, her lungs aching – she’d stopped breathing, it felt like. Her body was against her.

   Rather than sob and  _ wake  _ everyone, she bit down her tears, on her lip, and slipped out from the bed. She’d been  _ forced  _ here, while others had to clean up. She wasn’t injured. She was dizzy, and a little grazed, but she would be fine. She could help. But she was so freshly back, and didn’t know the place, they thought it was better for her to stay inside.

  Beth had killed three people, and countless walkers, and she was still the child of the group. So no, they wouldn’t get the satisfaction of her, sobbing in her sleeping bag, like she’d had a scary dream at a sleepover.

  The porch swing offered her some solace. It wasn’t here all the time, taken up and down at the whim of whoever wanted it. She curled up on it, ignoring the cold. It was refreshing. It woke her up, and dried her eyes, and she was so mad at this place.

  It wasn’t Alexandria’s fault.

  But she wasn’t wholly aware of the fat tears rolling down her cheeks, for all the people she would never know. She had been excited to meet them all, to learn their names, their pasts, their lives, and they were all gone. And she remained,  _ again _ , in pain, when she should just be  _ happy _ . Why couldn’t she be happy?

  The door swung open and a faint hiccup of tears caught in her throat. She scrubbed at her face with her sleeve.

  “M’fine. I’m sorry, if I woke you, I just… I needed air. It’s hot in there.” Beth sent him a shaky smile, hands fidgeting at her feet. She had her legs drawn up to her chest, and had curled up in the smallest ball possible on the seat.

  Daryl shouldn’t  _ see _ her like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter because I felt like it worked as a little separate part due to it being two different perspectives on the reunion after the stitches. I need to edit a lot of this porch scene. The rest will be up on Sunday. <3


	9. darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Just a heads up, there's a lot of suicidal thoughts and suicide mentions in this segment. Also this is a verrrrry introspective chapter, so strap in. <3

   Relief rushed over him when he saw the blonde on the porch swing, clad in pink polka dot pajamas that would usually elicit a smile out of him but right now he had way too much on his mind to even crack a smile at that.

_   It was a nightmare _ , he had to remind himself.

   Yeah, the walls had fallen, and  _ yeah _ , people had died, but Beth hadn’t. Beth was injured but alive, and the latter was the only part that mattered. It had been too close though. The girl had a trend of that, of close calls and too much pain. His mind raced with the scenarios he could have been greeted with, from gunshots to knife wounds, and it all turned his stomach.

   Because if that fucker had gotten a better grip on her, Beth wouldn’t have been here now. She could have been torn open across the front, left to gape like an animal set for slaughter. The list only grew from there, with all the gruesome ways she could have been killed. But she hadn’t been.

   Not this time, and as far as Daryl was concerned, not ever.

   That was the way the world was today. There were too many close calls, and not as many second chances. He had been granted close to his hundredth chance when it came to Beth, to make things right between them.

   This nightmare was a wake up call that life was too short. Daryl knew that well enough without the nasty thoughts that surfaced in his sleep. He’d lost so many  _ damn _ people along the line, he had lost  _ her _ , but he continued to hide away from her. It didn’t make him feel better, but it was better for her.

   Daryl’s eyes adjusted to the sparse light the moon offered them. He fixed his gaze on her face, all red and wet and tragic. Despite how she tried to cover it, he could tell that she had cried. Maybe that had been the cries in his dream, or her tears had triggered the dream.

   All he knew was that Beth had cried, and hidden it. She out on her own, small and full of whimpers. It was his own fault. Until he’d snatched her up earlier that evening, he had pushed her away. Maybe if he’d been nicer before the parade, Beth would have woken him up. The two could have sat out here, to talk or  _ not _ talked. They could have sat, shoulder to shoulder, eyes set out over the street. Her eyes on the street, he corrected. He’d be distracted by her. Wasn’t any point to pretend otherwise.

   Daryl’s brows furrowed at her words.

   Did she apologize for her tears? That was stupid. She needed to get it out, and he got that. He had cried in front of her twice before. She was one of the few people he knew who’d seen him cry, so who was he to judge her? He shook his head, and took a few steps towards her. He debated whether or not to sit down, or stand, so he remained motionless in front of her.

   There was only a couple feet of distance between them, and he had his gaze set on her. She was curled up in a ball, and looked so small he could just scoop her up in his arms with ease. The urge formed and fell with no action on his part, aside from the nervous worrying of his teeth against his lip.

   “Nah, you didn’t wake me.”

   It was the nightmare that woke him. He understood that, and had come out to get some air. That’s what he did when he couldn’t sleep. He’d also wanted to check for her, to see if she was okay. Given that she was out here, alone there was more to the story. Beth had tear stained cheeks and her eyes were puffy. It had to have been a while for her to be so red and worked over.

   There’s a smile, but it looked like the sort you got from a waitress who’s paid to be nice – it didn’t reach her eyes. See, when Beth had a genuine smile on her face, it reached her eyes and the corners of her eyes crinkled. This was a parody of that sweetness, plastered on to deter his questions.

   All he wanted was to make everything better. He didn’t want to push her away this time. He wanted to comfort her. He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, and eyed the spot next to her. It looked so inviting.

   Besides, it wasn’t like he would fall back asleep anytime soon. Not after the nightmare, or how he’d found Beth. He pushed himself that last little distance, to take the seat next to her. The bench rocked with his weight, an angry creak cut through the air as he sat. There was no grace to how he settled, with the swinging seat now in motion.

   Daryl’s gaze shifted out to the street. It was quiet, so much so that no one would’ve guessed that just a few hours ago there was complete chaos and bloodshed in the streets. The walkers had been shuffled away, out of sight, but they’d have to move the bodies, or burn them. That was a job for the next day.

   The air was still heavy with the smell of bodies, and smoke lingered across the town. It was all a further reminder of what his people had gone through today, and of the nasty potential others were capable of.

   “You’re not okay.” He knew her well enough to be able to say that, by his recokining. She was far from okay.

   Because when you were okay, you didn’t go off on your own in the middle of the night. If you were okay, like she claimed, you wouldn’t sit on a porch swing alone, to cry by yourself, and lie about it when found out.

...

   This was why Beth didn’t cry. It emphasized the bad feelings, and only made people  _ believe _ that she was weak. There was nothing gained in it, and while she thoroughly believed that it took bravery to cry, others didn’t think so. Her cheeks were rasped from the fluffy pajamas, and she wished that she had been able to sleep through the night.

   The painkillers had been accept, but then tucked back into the supplies. She hadn’t needed them, and no one had noticed. She could walk, and she would be fine. Other people needed them a lot more, and she had inflicted worse wounds on herself. The ribs were just an awkward spot, and it hurt a little to breath. There was only a few shallow slices, and one particularly  _ close _ one. The one that Daryl had kindly switched up, with rough but certain hands.

   But Daryl was here again, and that a surprise.

   A few months ago, it wouldn’t have been. They’d grown close, and checked on one another, and spoke about their past. They’d cracked each other open, and bonded. Their reunion wasn’t like that for long. It’d been days ago now, but it felt like weeks. So much had changed, and promises were broken, but he was here, and he was safe.

   The semantics weren’t important. He’d been injured, same as her, enough to notice, but not enough to slow them down. People had been more worried about her than him, but that was just because Daryl had always been better at disguising what he was feeling.

   Except now.

  Daryl was clad in his usual attire of jeans and that leather vest, and it only made her feel ridiculous. She had been stuffed into pink fluffy pajamas, with little white dots, and he was ready to go at any minute. If more came, walkers or wolves, she’d be stuck in these pajamas for who knew how long. They weren’t practical, and she knew it. The longer she thought about it, the worse she felt. She felt like she was back at her farmhouse, with blind faith that her mother would be better with the right medicine.

  Beth let out a long, deep sigh when he sat by her.

  Not at him, not even  _ about _ him, just the breath that she couldn’t manage. Her ribs all bandaged up made it awkward. She really didn’t remember what it was like to feel  _ good _ , not bruised up or starving, or  _ both _ . But she shouldn’t complain.

  She survived, again, when she shouldn’t have.

  “Yeah, well, neither are  _ you _ .” Beth kept her arms wrapped around her knee, eyes focused on the deck. She had never spoken to him like this. She’d never been so callous and thoughtless, but it kept happening. Her chin rested on her knee, only to turn to look at him.

  “I couldn’t sleep, after everything. S’why I’m out here. Cried a bit.” Beth wasn’t proud, but  _ admitting _ it outright before he skirted around it. “Why are you out here?”

  It’d be easier to sit in the quiet, to pretend it was amicable, but she could still remember the wall of silence on her first night. The subsequent days where he didn’t so much as meet her eye. And then her attempt at seeing him off. Yes, he had rushed to her side, to play the hero, but it had been out of his guilt, wasn’t it. He felt bad for being a jerk, and he wanted to make it right with her.

  It was a series of missteps, so what was one more?

  Beth drew her legs sideways, so she was facing him, knees drawn up and back against the chain and arm of the chair. She had a sense of defiance to her. She wasn’t ashamed that she’d had a nightmare, or that she had been crying. She didn’t know what she was feeling. Tired, but restless. Sore, but determined. She was here with Daryl, the person she’d wanted to see most, and he felt like a damn stranger.

  It took her nearly dying to get him to look at her. Did she have to bleed to have people notice her? Because that wasn’t the sort of attention she wanted.

...

  Daryl hadn’t intended it to come off as harsh, he had stated a fact when he’d said Beth wasn’t okay. The claim that she was an idiot let on to bigger issues. She insisted he wasn’t okay, and he let it slide on the surface. She returned the honesty he had afforded her, and there was no sense in anger.

  But Daryl didn’t know what he expected. He hadn’t expected that, for her to throw it right back in his face. He turned his head to look at her, his attention skipping over her because of his surprise.

  Beth was right though. He wasn’t okay, but he was trying to be; even though he  _ had _ to be. The two were a mess, her with the openly stained cheeks, and him with the furrowed brow. While he suffered internally, she could let herself cry.

  It didn’t feel right for him to cry, given that the person he’d come to care about most in the world was right here with him. Even if it was a one-sided feeling, and even if she hadn’t a clue, he knew it. Not everyone was so lucky.

   Daryl nodded slowly as she said she couldn’t sleep. Itt was the same reason that had drawn him out here, with stumbled steps and too-hot limbs. He wasn’t in the mood to talk, but she had asked. He couldn’t lie to her, so he cleared his throat awkwardly, chin lifted. His shoulders rolled, and the injury in his shoulder hardly registered. Pain was pain.

  “Couldn’t sleep, after everythin’ today. ”

   That was all he offered her. The dream that she had died was left out, and for good reason. There was no way Beth would want to hear that he’d dreamed of her death, when she’d nearly. He didn’t want her think that it was some sort of sign or omen.

   As she shifted the bench rocked, and he turned to face her. His posture was more open than he normally allowed, but it was owed. Tonight had been a series of gestures, of his apology for how cold he’d been.

   Even as they sat here on the porch, Daryl knew that it was more than he had done for her lately. Otherwise he’d look away from her, shoulders tense and brows furrowed, but now? Now, he was seated, slouched so as to diminish his size, and to relax.

   Beth was alive, he reminded himself. This vision in faded reds and whites, lit by the moon, she wasn’t one of his apparitions. He needed to take a chance, to reach out, but he didn’t even know where to begin but at least this was a start.

   Right?

   Daryl wanted to shift closer to her, he wanted to touch her, he wanted many things, but he wouldn’t be selfish. She seemed like she didn’t want the company and he didn’t want to overstep and push her into something that she didn’t want.

   Daryl couldn’t place it, but she was  _ different _ . He had noticed that right away in the infirmary that she’d lost that  _ spark _ in her eye. He wanted to ask her what happened at Grady, what caused her to lose the light in her, but she’d throw questions straight back in his face. He couldn’t handle that, so he stayed silent, but watchful.

   It hurt, because Daryl didn’t know how to act around her anymore. Back at the funeral home, things were so  _ easy _ . He would pick her up because she walked too slow. He’d ask her to sing because he found comfort in that.

   Now? Now he couldn’t even bring himself to set a hand on hers, for fear of how she would react.

   “Done talkin’ about me though, wanna talk about you.” They had only said a few words about him, but he shrugged it off. He wanted to talk to her, to find out what was going on with her.

   As he watched her even out her breathing, he felt his chest sink. He craved the closeness that they had back in the woods when they reunited. But it was selfish, and one-sided, and he didn’t deserve a lick of attention from the girl. Not with how he’d acted, not even if he’d tried to make it up to her with the stitches and pajamas.

   The necklace sat squarely in his pocket, its weight reassuring but its edges too sharp.

…

   The gentle tone and open posture made Beth want to start crying all over again. Because Daryl was trying harder than she was right now, but she was just gone. It wasn’t right. Whatever had happened at Grady compounded with her  _ head wound _ and everything went through a different filter.

   It felt like she couldn’t say what she wanted to, and said everything  _ except _ her real thoughts. She watched out of body as she did everything, normal as anything, but it wasn’t quite right. Edwards had warned her about it, that there would be difference, headaches, dizziness, motor skill impairment, the list became daunting, and she knew what it meant.

   It meant she was damaged, and she accepted it.

   There wasn’t much else she could do about it.

   The arrival mixed with blood, to the days she spent wrapped up with family who asked too many questions, and was she okay, and did she need anything, and why are you sad -- it was a whole  _ thing _ . The return was sweet, and joyful, and Beth was happy to be here. She was.

   It showed in her face when she held Judith, or when she was with Maggie, but with Daryl, it all fell apart. It was as if her mind couldn’t wrap around him like it used to, like the part that she lost to the bullet was her ability to understand  _ him _ .

   It hurt, because she looked at him, but she couldn’t see him. He would brush past her, maybe a nod if she was lucky, and it all went back to that night, when she had handed back the jacket. She’d excused herself, and that’d been the wrong thing to do. She thought he wanted space, and he did -- but not space from  _ her _ .

   It didn’t matter now. They’d come together like last time, joined by another averted tragedy, another stream of tears, another attachment at the hands and hip, where Daryl was afraid to let go. They had held hands all till she fell asleep, ignorant to the others. But they had let go. 

   And here they were, again. Small, mad circles, where she wanted to just  _ ask _ what was up. Because she couldn’t read him like she used to, but she wanted to understand. So instead of being sullen, Beth shifted. Her legs dropped over the edge of the seat, no longer balled up to her chest. Her posture matched his now, with how he had leaned back and opened up, and how looked at her.

   Still, it wasn’t like it used to be. Maybe that was a good thing. Beth hadn’t had to coax him out here, or ask for comfort, or for him to sit down. He flowed into position, and sought her out. He had spoken to her, and asked if she was okay. He recognized her upset, and tried to help. 

   And all she could do was worry.

   “What about me?” Beth asked, voice flat, eyes unfocused. She could tell what he wanted to know. It was the same thing everyone must have wondered, but been too afraid to ask.

   Why was she so  _ upset _ ? Why wasn’t she  _ happy _ to be here?

   It might have something to do with the hierarchy, the loss of a leader that she would never know. Deanna, a woman who’d lost her husband, who’d tried to fight, she was gone. A family of three, Jessie, her boys, boys she would never speak to.

   So many people she would have been glad to know, to speak to, but she hadn’t had a chance, because she had been stuck at Grady.

   “People die Daryl. I get that. It’s just… I turn up, and…” Beth shrugged a shoulder, and crumbled. She pressed her oversize sleeve to her face. “I know it’s not me, I know, but… Feels like I’m just, not doing anything good f’this place.”

   Beth didn’t even know what she was upset with. With their reunion, with her lost family, with the loss of potential friends, with the attack, with her wounds, with the nightmare, it was just blood lost in all forms.

   “I’m sick of blood, and guns. I’m so damn sick of it.” And she laughed, an empty sound, her sleeves continuing to wipe at her face. She didn’t want to talk about it, because she felt weak enough as it was. Her breathing broke up between sobs, her shoulders slumped, and she was gone again.

   Dumb, empty tears that were down her cheeks before she even realized. She was numb. One arm dropped to cross over her ribs, fingers pressed to her side. There were the stitches that Daryl had so sweetly sewn to her side, but the pain was at least something outside of the numbness.

   Daryl had been out here a few minutes, and she was already crying like she’d found those bodies by the train tracks again.

_    No _ , Beth reminded herself.  _ She didn’t cry anymore _ . Because crying was something you did when you stubbed your toe.

   You didn’t cry if you got cut open; you _ wept _ .

…

  When Daryl looked at Beth, all he saw was empty eyes and a pale shell of a girl. He reminded himself that this wasn’t permanent. Beth was grieving, and this was a normal part of the process. She had cut a man’s throat, and nearly died. It was bound to take it’s toll.

  It made him shift, how flat her voice was, and how she stared off into the distance. Daryl wanted to grab her chin, and yank her to look him in the eye. Then he’d talk through this with her, all till she admitted what was the real issue, so she could cry it out.

  Daryl needed her to let it all out, so that he could get his light back. To see her so lost only dragged him too close to a familiar darkness, and he was sick of the darkness. It was comfortable, and hurt, but he was used to the pain.

  Daryl needed a guide out of his shitstorm of a brain, he needed  _ out _ .

  It made his heart swell with guilt and grief, because Beth was still a person, not a concept. She was this strong woman, who’d grown alongside him, and without him, and he missed her to fucking badly when she was gone.

  The day he’d found her, Daryl had told her how great this place was, and how much she was going to love it. The past week had been nothing but death and heartache. It was all his fault. He had thought too highly of the place, and spoken too kindly, and she was disappointed. She had every right to be.

  Beth deserved the good. She deserved to sleep in her own bed, and wear those stupid pink pajamas, and to be comfortable. The blonde deserved to walk outside, enjoy the sunshine and the shapes in the clouds, but instead she had to look over her shoulder for the dead.

  Beth deserved everything, and all she got was disappointment. She deserved the world, and all she had was him. 

  “Beth.”

  Daryl breathed out her name, but his voice cracked halfway through. He let out a shaky breath, and his teeth set to work on his lower lip. He tried to collect himself.

  Daryl Dixon never needed anyone, but right now?

  Right now he needed her. He was selfish, and an asshole, and he needed light in his life, so he clung to her. He was adrift in a growing tally of deaths, all his fault, all preventable if only he’d tried harder. Everywhere he looked he saw death and heartache, and it was hard to see the good anymore.

  Daryl thought that once she was back he’d be able to see it again, that he’d be able to smile again, but she was broken, and that broke him in turn.

  He thought back to the farm, when she had cut her own wrists to free herself from the world. Back then, he thought she was being stupid and selfish. Now he couldn’t help but think she just wanted to be freed from the pain. The shard of mirror, her wrist, those thoughts came to mind as he sat opposite a shack. He’d taken a cigarette to his hand, tears and grit teeth, and a little circle burned into his hand.

  The tears had played against the sun, and he saw this speckle of light. Maybe he’d gone crazy from all the fucked up shit he’d seen, but he thought he saw  _ her _ . Her voice whispered at his back, and there was a warmth over him, and he flicked the butt aside. It wasn’t real, he knew that looking back, but the light, and the feeling of warmth, it’d been enough to draw him away from anything worse.

  Now?

  Now was different. Beth was here, alive, lit by the moon and warm and all pink and soft, but the darkness set in.

  Daryl looked over her, but his attention stuck to her face. She had no expression, just cool apathy and thick tears down her cheeks. There shouldn’t be sadness in those eyes, and he nearly lost control. He wanted to shake her, to scream, something, but instead he buckled.

  “I need y’to tell me that you’re gonna be okay.” Daryl’s throat tightened, and his eyes burned out of defiance. He wouldn’t let himself cry. He told himself that they burned because he was tired, not because he was on the verge of a mental breakdown. It wasn’t Beth’s fault he was a selfish fuck with too huge a request.  “I need y’to tell me that everythin’ is gonna be okay.”

   There’s another crackle, his throat dry, his hands clasped against his thighs.

…

   With everyone asleep, Beth had thought it’d be polite to cry all this out on her own. Her family was as intact as it could be, and she was here, and she was alive, and she had phenomenal luck. A gunshot wound, two cheek scars, and likely a few others littered over her body, but she was alive. Beth had to keep impressing this fact onto herself, because it teetered too closely to her mistake at her home. Her mother had died violently before her eyes, because Beth hadn’t  _ known _ about the walkers. She didn’t know a damn thing.

   But everyone had seen them before, and why couldn’t she just  _ deal _ with it? It was a trend from there, where everyone failed to understand why Beth couldn’t keep up.

   Why was she so soft still? Why hadn’t she  _ gotten _ it?

   Daryl had said as much at the moonshine cabin, to reinforce the fact she was spoiled and  _ lucky _ , and she didn’t feel lucky. She’d lived a privileged life, she had survived against the odds, she had found her family, but she still ached. And she would always have that, she figured. It wouldn’t go away, because it wasn’t a logical thing. It was a chemical imbalance, or from the trauma of the bullet that had passed through her head.

   There was a great many things that she felt, and none of them were based in logic.

   But Beth took a few breathes, panted through the full-body sobs, because this was too much. Daryl shouldn’t be out here. He’d put space between them, time and again, and it felt like a cycle. They’d drift further and further apart, then something awful would happen to one or both of them, and they’d crash together again.

   The sobs petered out, because she forced them back. There was no more tears to be had, just raw, red eyes. The tears had stopped for now, but in their wake she fell into the trap of distance. Everything felt distant, like nothing was quite real, like nothing was really  _ there _ . It happened when she felt stressed, and she supposed this was stress. Her brain was so overwhelmed, so it just stopped.

   It’d happened, before, at the farmhouse, and when Zach had passed away. She’d carried it across better then.

   Sometimes she felt so much, that she stopped herself from feeling anything at all. She drifted, and watched, and waited till it was safe. Daryl had been safe, once.

   Beth wasn’t sure now.

   Daryl asked too much of her. Because from all that she had experienced, things couldn’t be okay. Not when people like Dawn existed out there, or the wolves, or countless others who were set on killing. There were different ways to destroy a person, and Beth was sick of becoming aware of them. It was better than before, her ignorance a warm blanket. It didn’t really change the world outside, didn’t make the world warm.

   It was just pretend.

   Beth vented a deep breath through her nose, eyes shut for a moment. Because Daryl had gone out that day, to help with the walkers. Daryl put himself out there every single day, in the pursuit of something better for people like her.

   Beth opened her eyes, determined, because she couldn’t be the victim anymore. She couldn’t  _ let  _ things happen. She swore after Grady she wouldn’t be a victim, and her nightmare... It’d shocked her, set her on edge, but Daryl had come out here, and he was trying, so she could try, too. She met his eye with a kind of ferocity, because she’d nearly died too many times, and she was done with it.

   If she was going to die, it’d happen. Sobbing on a porch wasn’t going to stop her from dying, but it would stop her from  _ living _ .

   “It’s been... It’s hard. Really hard.” Beth added, shakily. “But I’m here, and you’re here, and that’s more than I expected after Grady -- so.” She smoothed a hand across her face, palm rushing over her cheek, her forehead, her hair.  “I think things are already okay. More than that. It doesn’t make what happened today any better, but... We’re here.”

   Whether that made any sense or not, Beth didn’t know. She wasn’t the best with words, they always felt clumsy or pointed, but he needed her. Daryl hadn’t needed anyone for anything, but he needed her for this.

   Beth could at least try, for him.

…

   Daryl look to Beth like a disciple, ready for whatever words she had to offer. He hoped that the blonde would wrap her arms around him, and whisper that everything would be okay now that they were together.

   Then she would say that the last week had been a streak of bad luck, but in times things would be good again.

   Except Beth didn’t so much as pat his shoulder. She stopped crying, which was a starter. There’s a look in her eyes, hardened and sharp. It was so unlike the girl who’d wanted to write a thank-you note. She had been so full of wonder and hope, but now there was a sort of fierceness about her. That was something that came with the scars she bore, he surmised.

   Daryl knew he should be proud of Beth, proud that she was so strong after everything that she had been through. But he could only think of his own pain, and how badly he needed that doe eyed girl to come back out. He needed that girl who’d held his hand for comfort, and spoke about a too bright future, and how she hoped one day Maggie and Glenn would have a baby, and picnics, and parties, and holidays –he  _ needed _ that.

   Instead he got something else, her answer seemed unsure. While he knew that she was  _ trying _ to help he didn’t find much comfort in her words. Things weren’t okay, not in the slightest not in his book anyway. While yes they were both here and he should be happy about that he couldn’t be happy when she was a shell of the person that she used to be. 

   Daryl had to tear his gaze away from her, he felt like he got sucker punched in the gut every time he looked at her he saw nothing but sadness and heartbreak and it was slowly beginning to eat him up on the inside. He should have accepted her response, that they were both here, and alive, and that should be enough but it wasn’t.

   Things were different, their whole dynamic was different, and it was clear in how empty she was, and how fast his heart was going. The shift between them only worsened things. He wanted to reach over to hug her, tug her close to his chest, but he had been selfish enough. He was worried about how’d take the rejection, if she had no interest in his touch.

   Which was likely -- he’d had his hands all over her earlier, to stitch her closed. There was nothing but pain in his hands, no softness, no gentle touches. He was all edges, and she deserved more than that.

   Daryl faced the street again, his body turned away, his shoulders slouched to match his hung head. He stared at the deck, jaw locked around shouts. He closed himself off, to save them both. His eyes took on the same sadness she had held, almost as empty.

   There was rarely a time he felt happier, when Beth was by his side. Right now all he felt was a consumption, that started low in his belly and clogged his lungs. He felt like he was drowning, and every time he got his head above water, there would be someone to shove him back under the surface.

   If there was a God, he was a miserable asshole who got off on the pain of others.

   Daryl had lost what he never even deserved, and he could feel the physical rip of her from him. It was like all the veins were drawn out, and his flesh hardened, and his throat clenched, and he had nothing. He’d felt indestructible when they had been wrapped around one another, and he had wept. Now, he was lost to the dark, Beth as empty as him.

   Beth had cockily told him that he would be the last man standing. He remembered that, because it was his worst fear. If he was alone, it meant that he’d failed everyone. He couldn’t stomach the thought, of everyone else dead while he remained alive.

   If nothing in this world saw fit to end him, why not end himself. Wouldn’t that be ironic.

   Daryl shoved the thoughts aside, he couldn’t think like that, he needed to think about the positive. There wasn’t much positive to focus on. He fiddled with his hands, and toyed with his fingers for a moment.

   His thumb brushed over the small burn mark on the back of his hand, remembering how it felt. It was a twisted pleasure, he knew that, but it just felt good to feel  _ something _ . 

…

   The silence of the porch had been comforting at first. Aside from the coppery tinge to the air and overturned dirt from the buried, it was calm. Beth had found comfort in it, because it was only her, and her thoughts. She hoped that this melancholy would pass, and that she’d be generating happiness instead of draining it. Maggie had shown concerns, but few else had.

   From the scars on her face, her  _ screwed up _ appearance, people assumed the worst.

   Poor girl, sweet girl, look at her, oh poor  _ thing _ .

   Beth felt her cheeks tighten like someone had twisted a screw, like she had to smile, not because she wanted to. But right now, there was a heavy silence, where Beth had expected a response. She had offered her perspective, her genuine feelings, and nothing.

  It wasn’t rainbows and sweet tea on the porch, but she had tried when she didn’t feel like she could, and it hadn’t been enough. Before, she’d found it easy to jostle him into a better place, because she had faith.

  This was all wrong, and she didn’t know what had done it. Her faith had shifted, because now she’d found everyone, she didn’t have a part two. She didn’t have a further solution to her problems, all of which could be traced to Grady. But they’d existed before that, before walkers were even around.

   Beth had learned early on to smile wide and bright, to disguise how unhappy she was. Because she had everything, didn’t she? What did she had to be unhappy about? Now, she had a reason, so it stuck a wrench in her brain.

   Then there was Daryl. They’d collided thought she’d said the right thing, but she hadn’t. But she had been watching him, and that was enough. He was asking for too much from her, for her to be his – his  _ something _ .

   A lift or a reassurance, or something, and she’d tried, and she had failed. Because words weren’t what she wanted to give him, and it wasn’t what he needed. The turned away face, the dip of his shoulders, the anxious energy wrapped around her core, this was familiar. She’d made it. She told him she’d make it, and she  _ had _ .

   Beth shifted forward, like she had before, but it’d worked, then. When her words had only yanked tears from his too-proud eyes, she’d hugged him, and that’d been enough.

   The porch swing shifted, but she didn’t so much care. Her arms looped around him, her cheek against his shoulder, legs splayed either side of the chair, and it was awkward. Maybe he’d shrug her off, tell her to go away, whatever. He’d done as much with his body language now, and it’d be nothing new. But she wasn’t confident in her words, when all they kept doing was deflating him.

   From the moment she’d let him go to check that door, too afraid to pull him close, she’d made a mistake. And she’d made the same mistake again when they were standing by the blood splatter, and he’d shut down at the sight of his jacket. A lack of words was not a lack of interest, she realized. It was the opposite. Whether he meant it or not, silence from Daryl was a cry for help, and then it  _ clicked _ . Anger, he could handle. He let that out in throws. It was the low beats, where she would cry, and he’d lock down.

   The only thing she can think of is to sing, soft and low, because at least lyrics were set, and the melody was there, and she hadn’t sung in… Her heart ached to think of it. It was low, and soft, and it’s the first one that came to mind.

   “ _ It’s unclear now what we intend, we’re alone in our own world… _ ” And she continued, softly, curious if he’d  _ allow _ her to.


	10. cash.

  Daryl wasn’t a selfish person, usually, but he needed to be right now. Except Beth had enough on her plate, and he’d added more. He was had asked her to lie, and to tell him that things were going to be okay. He was furious with himself, at this place, and everything in between.

  Alexandria wasn’t all he cracked it up to be. It’d been safe, _so_ safe, and Beth was supposed to thrive in this town. Instead she had seen nothing but death, and suffered through pain, and it’d gotten no better through her brief time here.

  Daryl’s gaze was stuck on the floor below him and he felt the swing move. He assumed it was her, on her way back inside. She would to go, to get far away from him, and he couldn’t blame her. He was throwing a pity party for himself and he’d want to get away from himself too if he could.

  But Beth liked to surprise him. Daryl tensed as slim, strong arms took to him. He raised his head when he felt her close, her head on his shoulder, her chest against his arm, and he felt a weight lift from him. It was strange how something as simple as a touch could pull him back from the edge, how it could make him feel better.

  Of course he wasn’t about to sing and piss rainbows or anything, but he felt closer to the light.

  Beth had that effect.

  Daryl shifted to drape his arms across her shoulders, to tug her as close as humanly possible. His chin rested on top of her head, and he had no issue with this. She’d hugged him, she wanted to touch him, and he needed this. Maybe this could finally be _okay_.

  Then, as he thought things had settled, he heard her voice.

  The song that she had sung at the funeral home, first for herself, then at his request. He remembered those words, he remembered a lot of lines from the song. He didn’t have a chance in Hell at something like a birthday or anniversary, but he remembered lines to a song that he had heard months ago. Daryl thought he would remember her birthday though, if she told him. If such a thing even mattered now.

  Daryl closed his eyes, and he was back at the funeral home. He was laid out in that casket, warm from the sound of her voice, and from the plush of the lining. He hadn’t asked her to sing this time, but he’s so fucking glad that she is. He’d been dying to hear her sing again, for months, and then all the more so when he found her in the woods. Or she found him. They found each other.

  Truth was, Daryl missed her voice. He missed her singing, her laughs, her scoffs, all the little sounds she tried to keep down, and it trickled into how he’d missed _everything_ about her. Daryl didn’t even think it was possible to miss someone as much as he had missed Beth. He’d seen a snatch of it, when Rick lost Lori, but it’d been someone else’s grief. He didn’t _get_ it, not like he got it now.

  Beth was _everything_. Oxygen, water, food, shelter, whatever else, it’s a luxury. He needed this more than he’d ever needed any of that shit. His fingertips brushed against her shoulder gently, moving in circular motion and he relaxed further into her, onto her.

  Daryl wondered if she’d wear that braid in her hair again, the one she wore at the prison and when they were off on their own. Maybe she’d grown sick of it. He hoped that she hadn’t, as he hoped to see bits and pieces of the old her, like now.

  It was a silly thought but he still couldn’t help but think about it. Something as small and dumb as a hairstyle just triggered thoughts about the days when they were happy, about the days that they still had _hope_. Like her soft voice and warm body, he could be anywhere except here. He could be with her.

**…**

  The words fell from her lips, careless from her lack of practice and rasped from her tears. But she found the swing of it, the lyrics weaving out to a tune. The gentle hug formed into something more, something tighter, and it all cleared up.

  The lack of contact had been the problem, Beth realized.

  In her time away from Daryl, she had learned to cope with a whole new group of people, people who _would_ go silent if they wanted to be left alone. She hadn’t had a reason to pry, not with Dawn or with Morgan.

  There were different reasons on both sides, but the moral was that she’d come to think of herself as a burden, and an annoyance. It was easy to dismiss herself, because all of these feelings were ones that she’d had, time and again.

  People didn’t want to hear her sing, people don’t want her prying into their lives, people found her hugs annoying, and people didn’t want to see her _sad_ , because she had no reason to be sad. These were the mantras that circled in her mind, and she had been foolish enough to believe them.

  Because from how Daryl shifted to draw her closer, she nearly lost her rhythm. She caught herself, and kept it flowing.

  All the way through. Not because she wanted to sing, not really. That urge had been lost sometime at Grady, though she knew she _would_ sing again, one day. When it was the right time, with the right people.

  Or the right _person_ , as it happened.

  Beth was nearly in his lap by the end of the song, and Daryl was completely unabashed for it. She wondered if this would be another collision that pushed them apart. They kept coming together, all tears and relief, and then they’d split again. It happened with their reunion, and earlier that evening. She didn’t know what to expect of him, or of herself, but she had at least sung.

  It’d been a long time coming, and it felt good. She felt a little dumb, doing it without having been asked, but he had, sort of. He wanted to be told everything would be okay, and her words hadn’t been enough. He needed some proof that she was the same girl he’d lost; but she wasn’t the same.

  That’d be something he’d learn, Beth knew. Just as he’d changed in her absence, reverted to the man who blamed himself for everything.

   “So we will drink beer all day, and our guards will give way, and we'll be good.” These last words were sighed out, softer, her chest full of heaviness. Now she didn’t know what to say again.

  There wasn’t much she _could_ say.

  The pose was still awkward, her legs splayed either side of the swinging seat, attached to Daryl like a baby possum. But he kept her pinned in place, and she didn’t much feel like moving away.

  “S’been a while since I’ve sung.” Beth said, unhappy to let the silence set. “Hope it sounded okay.” And there’s the bashful smile that she has tucked against his shoulder. The singing had sucked some of the poison out of her soul. Singing and writing, they were the ways she drew out the bad stuff, to get rid of it.

  And maybe this was what she’d needed; a reminder that she could sing, that, that hadn’t changed, or been taken from her.

  No one could _take_ that from her, either.

**…**

  It felt good to be back in that place, even if it was just for the duration of the song. Normally the funeral home felt like ages ago, but it felt like only yesterday now. It had helped, to hear her sing. It’s sad how desperately he’d needed it, but whatever, he’s desperate, and he’s sad.

  Back at the prison, he never got her singing. It was a trill of pretty sounds, no better than a bird. It’s the kind of hobby she would have, a pretty little blonde with soft hands and a softer heart.

  Now he understood why she sang. When she did it, he forgot about the bad – even for a moment, it was nice to forget about all the bad in the world, to focus on the _good_ . It was late, the two of them were huddled up together on the porch swing. It’s only the two of them, barely set within this world, barely alive, but things would be _okay_.

   Daryl noticed the closeness and he didn’t mind it. If anything, it was _welcomed_ . He knew that anyone could come out onto the porch to get fresh air, and  see the two of them. He should care, about how _little_ he cared. He might even like it, to have someone come out here, to see how _close_ they were.

  Set it up right, that if anyone _fucked_ with Beth, he’d be there.

  Besides, they weren’t doing anything wrong. There’s a comfort they found in one another, and she had talked him down from a dark place. He could spend the entire night out here with her just staring into the empty streets and waiting for the sun to come up. He’s almost tempted to ask that of her, for them to stay here all night.

   Daryl wanted to make things better for her, because she had made things better for him. He had no idea where to even begin with that, but he wanted to think of _something_.

  Something for her to keep her mind off things. Maybe on his next run he would look for something that she’d like – maybe a guitar, ukelele, or whatever. While he knew that was something impractical to grab an instrument, he’d do it.

   Once she finished the song, he let out a quiet sigh. He could breathe again.

  “Stop it.” He murmured quietly as she said she hadn’t sung in a while. Her voice sounded perfect. _Everything_ about that was perfect. “‘S always good when ya sing.” It was something he’d thought Beth had lost, in their time apart. Things changed, people changed.

  The two had done a lot of growing up but some of the change wasn’t good, it seemed as if the two had a lot of negativity and maybe now that they had found their way back to one another. Maybe the two of them could work together, to repair the damage that had been done on both of them.

  “Thank ya.” It’s quiet, but it needed to be said. Because Beth wasn’t a jukebox, or a radio; she’s a woman who sang from the heart, and right now he needed a little _heart_.

**…**

  The evening air had cooled her cheeks, and the tears had stopped. That was a saving grace, at least. She’d rub her face raw if it didn’t _stop_ , so she focused instead on Daryl. Namely, how they kept circling back to this point, sandwiched together with anger or sadness the catalyst.

  It bugged her, because she couldn’t seem to make him stay unless one of them was injured, or upset, or both, and she wanted to have nicer times with him. She wanted to sing, because it felt like the thing to do, not because she hadn’t been able to think of words. Or, the right words. She could always think of something to say to Daryl, because she had so much she wanted to know about him, and to tell him about.

  Eventually Beth would crack, and her time at Grady would be cut from her. She’d lay it out in front of him, oozing and black, but at least _out_ of her. It wasn’t darkness, not inherent to her, but it was a weight inside her. She would flinch at surprise sounds, or turn too quickly at a new arrival. Always _judging_ , whether they were to be trusted or not. It happened less with her family, and it happened in a different way with Daryl.

  Beth was still unsure if the bottomed out sensation of her stomach was something to be worried about. Strictly speaking, Beth recognized it, and knew where it would lead if she _let_ it, but it wasn’t a feeling she was confident in.

  There was too much friction between them. Except right now, things felt close and sweet, and she might be able to follow that feeling. Maybe.

  Beth had her arms looped around his middle, her cheek at his shoulder, and she could feel that he’d near soaked through his shirt. The proximity to Daryl didn’t register for Beth as a flag for her. She was a creature of affection, and had grown up with so many cuddles and kind words, she was used to it.

  If anything, she felt the urge to impress herself onto him, more comfortably, as if she could climb across his lap, for him to hold her, but that seemed like too far of a push. She was exhausted, and had spent most of the night crying, and he’d not had a good run.

  There was nothing to be gained in a rush, especially not when it came to Daryl. She had to have faith that there would be time for them, if she let it form.

  Because Beth insisted that it had to happen. There’d be time, when they’d sit properly, and talk. Daryl spoke, to compliment her. She kept a smile in place, unable to fully accept it. Because he’d shouted at her about it, told her she was stupid for singing, but she kept at it. She had to wonder what he really felt about it; seemed right now that he liked her voice, her presence, so would it be too much to assume he liked _her_?

  That ripped through from her throat to her stomach, her breath caught in her chest.

  “What if I sung terribly on purpose? Would you think it’s _good_ then?” Beth cast this out as she looked down, and around, as if in search of something, a distraction from that thought. Daryl didn’t like people, he _tolerated_ them.

  After a moment of frantic searching, for something to _do_ , Beth snagged his hand with her own. She interlocked their fingers, to rest their hands by her knee, his thigh. It was an assortment of body parts, all interlocked, all mixed together. She looked back to his face to smile, and felt relief. It came through her singing, and his response to it.

  Because it _had_ made her feel better. Singing always did, it was methodical, and expressive, and allowed her to focus on something she could control.

**…**

  Daryl turned his head to get a look at her, to see if she still looked how she did just minutes ago, or if she still looked gone. A twitch of a smile took to his lips as he looked over her. It felt too good to see her smile, and he didn’t think he’d ever get tired of seeing it.

  Daryl wasn’t sure what brought it out, whether it was her song or his words, but he dismissed the latter. He doubted he had anything to do with the smile.

  Nah, it had to be her.

  Beth smiled because she’d sung, and it’d been a long while. He doubted that she sang at Grady. The place was dark and creepy, the same way most hospitals were. His father was always in and out of them due to alcohol poisoning, or the subsequent liver problems. Eventually his liver gave out, and with a rueful smile Daryl thought _thank fucking God_. Old man drank himself to death when Daryl was in his twenties, and he’d not seen a hospital since.

  Daryl’s mother was in them, too, when the beatings were bad enough, when she was _alive_ . The nurses all thought she was the clumsiest woman on the planet. How many times could a woman _accidentally_ fall down a flight of stairs? Poor woman, too good at her lies, or so fucked out of her mind she believed them, too. Their house didn’t even have stairs.

  Decades later, at the end of it all, there’s Grady, the hospital where he had lost Beth. So no, he didn’t have any good memories involving hospitals. He wouldn’t blame Beth if she didn’t have any either, after what happened at Grady.

   Daryl looked to her cheeks, her ears, down to the plush pink pajamas he’d fetched for her. When she began to speak, he wanted to laugh but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

  Instead he offered her a genuine smile. The smile reached his eyes as he tore his gaze away from her, to look out into the street in front of them.

  “If y’sung bad on _purpose_?”

  Daryl was always too quick to talk around Beth, before. He’d let himself talk without thought, and he’d _always_ say the wrong thing and offend her. Back when the two of them were at the moonshine shack and he had gotten drunk, he didn’t think before he spoke and he had said some pretty terrible things to her; things that he still regretted to this day.

  Telling her that she was looking for attention because she thought about self harm and now look at him. He had burned his own flesh just months ago and it wasn’t for attention, he finally understood why she did what she did.

  The last thing hurt the worst, when he’d told her she would never see the group again, that she’d never see Maggie again. For the longest time, he’d thought he’d been right. But he hadn’t been. He’s never right when Beth’s around. But he tried to be.

  “Don’t think you could sound bad, even if you tried.”

  The next thing he felt was her tiny hand in his much larger one, so maybe he had said the right thing – said what she wanted to hear?

  Daryl wiggled his fingers to lace their fingers together better, and to give her hand a gentle squeeze. He looked down to their hands for a moment, the scruff of his top lip in motion around a smirk.

  Daryl took in how _tiny_ her hands were in comparison to his, and how soft they were. Even with her callouses from farmwork and her guitar, she it was all softness and curves where he’s hard and rough. It showed there, between their fingers, her slim pink digits compared to his calloused stumps.

  He shifted his gaze to meet hers, eyes lingering on her smile for a moment–finally a _real_ one.

**…**

  It was hard to explain; she’d woken up, body locked in paralysis, like she was _dead_ , and a panic attack had set in. Beth had gotten better at identifying them, seeing as it’d been years since they’d really happened.

  Beth used to get them in middle school, and it tapered out with the help of a therapist, Milly. She’d not spoken to anyone about that, and she doubted if it was relevant anymore. Everyone had to have at least one or two mental illnesses, from the murders, the assaults, the lack of order, the constant fear of death – she wasn’t unique in her suffering. But that didn’t stop her body from locking up at the joints, and her breath to catch at the back of her throat.

  The important thing was Beth had done right.

  Beth had read the signs put out by Daryl, and instead of giving him space, she’d cracked down even harder on him.

  It mightn’t work every single time, and it might backfire one day, but Beth didn’t mind. He could lash out on walkers, or her, or whatever, so long as he wasn’t taking it out on himself. _Someone_ had to value Daryl, even if he wouldn’t value himself. Beth would try to rub off on him, to help him like Milly had. She wasn’t a professional, and she wouldn’t claim to be anything close to qualified, but she cared.

  That was a good starting point.

  Beth was pleased that he’d not pushed her away, or drawn his hand back. She’d been sure he’d push it away, but no. He even shifted their hands, to properly interlock their fingers. There was this smile on her lips, curious and _amused_.

  Because she’d convinced herself that he didn’t want her around, but he’d come to find her. Because that’s why he’d come outside, wasn’t it? He’d barreled out in a sweat, worried about her. Beth rolled her shoulder, to sit up with a defiant lift of her chin.

  “I think you’d be surprised.” And she croaked a few low, off-key bars of Johnny Cash – she couldn’t even tell what song, just it was one of _his_ , because Shawn listened to him. The tuneless mockery ended shortly after it’d begun, and Beth continued to smile.

  She should feel terrible. People had died, and people were dying, and she was here – but wasn’t that reason enough to enjoy what time she did have?

  Because there was little point in living, if you were going to focus solely on the negative. They had mourned, they had buried people, and Beth’s heart went out to the families. But they couldn’t dwell. Not like she had, in bed, tossing and turning, mourning what could have been as opposed to what was.

  So Beth sung her terrible little lilt of Johnny Cash, only to slump back against Daryl.

  Maybe she should have thought more about this, about why they were wrapped up together on the porch swing, alone, entangled. It would be an odd sight, especially with her terrible singing. But what people thought mattered less than what she wanted, and Beth had long since stopped caring about others’ opinions.

  Gossip and drama had been left in the old world, and in this new world, she would do as she pleased. She’d cuddle up to Daryl, and sing crappily, and laugh at the whole thing. Because she had felt bad, and she had cried, but she had _this_ , and it felt okay.

  Like it was _okay_ to be happy, even a little.

  “You feeling better?”

**...**

  Both of them awoke from a shitty night’s sleep, and had come out to the porch in the interest of solitude. Instead, they found one another.

  Okay, so maybe Daryl came outside to find her.

  He’d not only had he found her, but he’d found that peace he normally only found in solitude. Or maybe he found something deeper, sweeter, than that peace. He had her, wrapped up in his arms in the night.

  Daryl had been sweating bullets and shaking, but now he was beyond relaxed. It had everything to do with the blonde at his side, and how they’d cuddled together into a lump on the porch swing. Yeah, cuddled. It was the only thing he could think to call it.

  He’s okay now, they were both _okay_ . Beth was smart, and knew what worked on him, and when to lay off, and it worked, and it downright scared him how _well_ it worked.

  One thing that was for sure was Beth Greene could always surprise him. Just when he thought that he had her figured it out she would do a complete one-eighty, and show him that he knew nothing. Daryl was never the most confident with social skills, but he was confident in his abilities to read people. He could pick a lot about a person through how they stood, how they spoke, things like that.

  It’s a large part of why Deanna had chosen him to go on scouting missions with Aaron.

  The two of them worked together and tracked people and figured out who was good and who wasn’t and could bring the good ones back to Alexandria.

  But then there’s Beth, and Daryl doesn’t know a fucking _thing_ . She’s something like a puzzle that he couldn’t figure out, but so much better and worse than that. A large part of him didn’t want to _get_ her, not like how he got everyone else.

  It was exciting to him every time he learned something new about Beth, like a reward for not being an asshole.

  Daryl chewed on his lower lip to stop the stupid grin that was threatening to form on his lips, but it didn’t help. He ducked his head, to hide it, because she’d began to sing again. She was trying to be bad on purpose, but he only found it adorable.

  Where the fuck that word had come from, he didn’t know.

  “Wasn’t bad.” He let out a quiet laugh, and even if it’s small, even if it’s barely there, it felt good to laugh. It’s better than the weight at his back, that clung to his shoulders. She made it seem easier, to deal with everything else.

  But that singing, he would never it _was_ bad. Even if Beth was even capable of being bad at _anything_ , even if her singing could make dogs howl, he wouldn’t say as much. Daryl would never insult her like that.

  Back at the prison, he’d had no problem with it. He’d grumble under his breath how annoying her voice was, how her singing pissed him off, but it’s a thing. He pushed at her, at everyone, because he didn’t get good things.

  With her cuddled to his side, their hands intertwined, he wanted so badly to be done pushing her away. He wanted to tell her everything.

  Whatever _everything_ was.

  People paired off, and relied on another person.

  Aaron had Eric. Simple. Michonne and Rick, they were looking awful cozy lately. Glenn had Maggie.

  Daryl’s tongue felt heavy in his mouth, like he wanted to throw it out there, now. But he can’t. It’s not in him, not now.

  But why not Beth and him?

  The way the world was, you needed someone to rely on, you needed a person. He’d never thought that, before, but then he’d spent months with Beth, he’d relied on her, and she’d relied on him, and he loved it. More than anything, he wanted Beth to be _his_ person, but why was it so hard to admit that out loud?

  Probably because he had left it so late. It took him months to realize it in full, the sheer scope of it, but when he’d sat by that tree and pressed a cigarette to his skin, it all fell together. He was alone, and she was _it_ , she was the one that he wanted to rely on.

  How the fuck would he rely on a dead girl?

  But she’s not dead. The image of her, lifeless, that’s still in his mind. He’d never shake it. But she’s warm and sweet and soft, and he’s got her hand in his. It’d be so easy, he thought, to tell her. It should be so easy.

  But he’s a fucking pussy, and he can’t _have_ a good thing.

  “M’feelin’ better. Think the Cash helped.” He teased, but then his tone grew more serious as he looked back down to her. “What about you?” His chin jutted with the question, his beard snagged in her hair. She had done everything in her power to make him better and he wanted to do the same.

  “You feelin’ better?”

**…**

  This time on the porch felt like how things used to be.

  There was the edge of sobs that’d cut through them both, and there was nightmares, but this? This felt familiar. Beth could handle this. And maybe it was unjustified, and she should be clinging to the horrors that had happened that day, but she couldn’t. She would take them on as a cross to bear, but she’d not allow them to stop her from living.

  Especially not when living meant being cuddled close to Daryl, singing terribly, enjoying the smile on his face and the laugh he was definitely fighting now. The singing had been worth it, and the absurdity of it had struck him in the gut, like she’d wanted.

   But Daryl surprised her; he insisted she _wasn’t_ bad, even though she’d tried to be. The words were all crackly, her tune was _off_ , and she’d not tried in the least, but he’d liked it. Beth raised an eyebrow at him, surprised by the _forgiving_ attitude. Maybe he was lying to her, but it didn’t much feel like a lie. He was smiling too wide, and his tone was genuine.

  So either he thought her regular singing was terrible, or it wasn’t so much about how _good_ she really was. It was a thought process she could embrace, in all honesty. She focused as best she could on his face, eyes devouring everything the light would allow her to see.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard a bad singer. It’s more the thing of it – some people are better than others, but it’s always _good_ , y’know?”

  The nod made her relax instantly, because he was okay, and she’d not completely screwed up this time. Her arm was still around him, and their hands were interlocked, and she had him. Maybe it wasn’t exactly like that, because you couldn’t ever really _have_ someone all to yourself, but it certainly felt like it.

  It felt like what should have followed her first day back, with patience and low tones, and a lot more hugging. That first night back hadn’t been all that much _better_ , with how they’d been greeted, but neither was today. Beth was starting to recall what exactly life was like outside of Grady. Death happened, as it did there, but in a different way.

  Death was never fair, and never kind, but it happened.

  You could rely on that much.

  “I’m feelin’ much better, yeah.” Beth nodded against his shoulder, not much minding the proximity. It was just nice to have someone close. Except it wasn’t just the closeness part. Daryl mattered; the fact it was him out here, wrapped up and around her, that mattered. Maybe things weren’t clear to her, or him, but there was something to it that she wanted to have again and again. Beth drew back a touch, just to properly look at his face.

  They were close, close enough she could do a great many things, but didn’t. She just knew the potential was there, and that it might be something she wanted. The months apart hadn’t killed that urge in her, to reach out and loop her fingers through his hair and see what the smoke and sweat tasted like for a change. She’d smelled it enough times.

  “Better than better. Dunno if I’m allowed to, or – like I should be upset. A lot of bad things happened today. But our family’s still here, and we have this.” Beth waggled a hand between them.

**…**

  Daryl figured that Beth had never heard Merle singing in the shower, then, thank God.

  That man was so off tune that Daryl felt like his ears would bleed, though Merle never really _tried_. He just screamed the words and fought to sing louder than the water making sure the entire neighborhood could hear him. Normally it was when he was high, out of his mind.

  “I think Merle woulda changed your mind.” He murmured with a small smile. It felt good to talk about him. After he had died Daryl withdrawn, and he didn’t think he could ever hear his name again. He’d never thought to tell a story, either, but Beth drew that out of him.

  Even though he could tell by her actions that she was feeling better, it put him at ease to hear her actually _say_ the words. He could even tell by the tone of her voice that there was something _there_ , more than there was before. Her voice wasn’t empty and she was actually smiling, even if it was only a little bit.

  While both of them were still dealing with everything that had happened the past couple days they were still here and still standing and that had to count for something. He noticed her shifting back slightly and he took the opportunity to look down at her as well. Her soft features shone in the moon, and he could sit here all night if she let him.

  Daryl knew what she meant. It felt strange to feel happy when the world was the way it was. No, not just the dead on parade. It’s not the dead that are the issue, really. It’s the people like them, out there, out to survive. The fact that that you had to kill sometimes to survive, and that there were fucked up people out there that had a thirst for blood, who killed for the thrill of it.

  All of it was frightening, and that’s why the little glimpses of happiness were much needed. Even though it felt wrong to feel happy when people had died, when a lot of people had died. People in their family that still _should_ have been there, Tyreese, Andrea, Dale – _everyone_.

  All gone too soon but none forgotten, their memories still lived on through other people.

  “You’re allowed to feel everythin’. That means y’allowed to feel happy, too.” Daryl shuffled, thumb set against the back of her hand. It’s clumsy, and grating, but he did it. “We can’t just always suffer, it ain’t fair. We deserve to feel the good parts.”

  Beth had slowly made him realise this, that he deserved the happy bits too, that he didn’t have to take only the pain and suffering.

  Daryl noticed how she had motioned between the two of them and he couldn’t help but wonder what exactly _this_ was. Whatever it was he enjoyed it, and he didn’t want it to disappear.

  It’s late though, and they’re wrecked, and she’s healing. They sat out on the porch swing until her breathing turned shallow, sleepy, and he drew her up into his arms. Her sleeping bag was still set up, and it took no effort to slip her onto the couch and into her spot.

  Beth sleepily obliged, but didn’t let his hand go. She made sounds, of pain, of discomfort, and he didn’t mind. It was better that she let them out instead of holding it all back, and it didn’t stop him from a soft doze.

  Daryl woke up hours later, as dawn cracked the sky, to find her still clutched to his hand. He thumbed the flat of her hand, and wondered whether she’d notice if he kissed it. It’s a quick and low thought, shoved into the back of his mind as others begun to shift.

  They had their work cut out for them, with all the walkers and wolves strewn around town.


	11. small talk.

  There’s too much sun, and too much sound, but worst of all there was too much  _ pain _ . It was the same each morning, when she would wake up to  _ stabs _ at her side. Beth would slowly adjust to the pain throughout the day, but each morning it was a fresh  _ stab _ in her side. The choker of yellow and purple left by the wolf’s hand would go, too, in time. It was all patience, and care, and she had plenty of both. Maggie had said it would get better with time, but it had been a week. 

  The shared lounge had become lonelier. Maggie and Glenn had sectioned off down the road, though nothing official had been announced. The people she had not properly met, Abraham, Rosita, Eugene, they had taken another home. In the wake of the wolves, there were more places than ever.

  But the group would ebb together some nights then apart the next, with Beth always in the Grimes’ living room. Carol would be here, too, but she kept off on her own. It was just easier, to tend to Judith and watch over Carl.

  This morning -- afternoon? -- Beth found herself on the foldout couch. It took her by surprise, because she had definitely fallen asleep upstairs, she  _ knew _ , but there was no crib, no Judith. Sometimes Rick would pop through, see her, tell her to go to the foldout. She may have shifted herself, blearily, though she couldn’t recall a break in her sleep.

   And Daryl had grumbled the previous day, about how she would need a checkup, and to not kick up a fit if he came to find her. That Beth remembered. The bangs in the kitchen may have been what woke her, if the pain hadn’t. All she can see is leather and brown hair, tromping around in the kitchen without a care.

  “If you’re here about that checkup -- ” Beth sat up, only to clutch her side with a low wince. There was Daryl, in the kitchen, unimpressed expression on his face. “I’m  _ fine _ .”

…

   Last night Daryl had found her curled up on the chair upstairs. He didn’t know how many times he had to tell her. It wasn’t good for her to fall asleep all bundled up like that, curled in a ball. He wasn’t going to let her sleep like that, so he’d carried her downstairs and laid her down on the foldout couch. Absently he tucked a blanket over her, pushed her hair out of her face and forced himself to ignore the whimpers -- why couldn’t she sleep quietly? He took his spot on the floor, same as he had the week before.

   So, it’d only been a week of this whole doctor thing, and Beth was his only patient, but she was his worst. She refused to listen to his instruction, and refused to take it easy. Normally stitches would be fine on their own, but he’d seen her change shirts more than a girl should. No doubt she’d bled, and covered it up, and he was just done.

  Daryl had told her yesterday that he would need to look over her stitches, to make sure none of them opened up. With how she pushed herself, it was very likely. From how frequently she picked up Judith, to how she carried supplies, and helped with the wall, Daryl worried. She was doing too damn much, and he couldn’t stop her.

   Daryl leaned up against the counter in the kitchen, hands framed at the benchtop as he shot her a look. He’d seen her wince, heard it, and for once he was sure he knew better.

   “You ain’t fine.” Five days ago, she had nearly gutted. There was no way in Hell she was  _ fine _ . “I need to check on the stitches, make sure none of ‘em opened up.” He approached her, the attempt at lunch left behind.

   Clearly he wouldn’t take  _ no _ for an answer. 

…

  The world wasn’t going to stop because of a slash down her side. Beth couldn’t afford to slow down, because she needed to help out in every way she could. Even if that was only in the form of mothering Judith, it was something. She’d only been back a week, two  _ now _ , and she’d not made the best impression she could have. Not that Daryl seemed to take that into consideration.

  The urge to argue is lost because he had a point. It wasn’t him, babying her. It was his need to ensure he hadn’t screwed up anything. She fought her way out of the blanket, and tossed it to the end of the bed. She’d not come down here, not that she could remember. And she really didn’t remember the blanket. Maybe she’d been moved -- her attention shifted dubiously over Daryl.

  “Okay, but I’ve gotta help out with inventory in... Like,  _ now _ .” Beth peeked out the window, a cringe visibly cut through her. She was late, and she’d promised. “Why didn’t someone wake me up?” This world didn’t  _ allow _ for sleep ins, or lazy days. She felt like an absolute  _ weight _ and that wasn’t made better by the slow start.

…

  Daryl watched as she scooted over to him. He saw the cringe as she turned to peek out the window and all he could do was shake his head. He couldn’t tell her to take it easy because she wouldn’t listen. She never listened when it came to that sort of thing. She was stubborn as Hell and he had only just began to see that. 

  “Told Olivia you weren’t feelin’ well.” Daryl shrugged. “Didn’t wanna wake ya because you can’t heal unless you actually get your rest.” His tone was matter-of-fact. “S’only gonna take a minute, and then you can be off.”

  Beth visibly itched to get out of there, and to make herself useful. She was useful in his eyes, but he understood that she needed validation. In a place like Alexandria, you had to work to ensure you repaid those who worked hard. Those in inventory helped those who worked the walls, visa versa.

  “’m just gonna lift this up.” He warned her, as he moved to lift her shirt. After a beat, he lifted it, unabashed. The skin was red and swollen around the stitches, but she seemed to be healing well enough. His fingertips ran gently over the stitches to make sure everything was good.

  “They’re swollen at th’top, where it gets deeper – probably from you always fallin’ asleep in that damn chair.” There was a derisive snort. “You gotta stretch out girl, you can't be curled up in a  _ ball _ .”

…

  Beth didn’t much want to be doted on. It reminded her of her time at the farm, when Andrea and Lori had vied for her life. One wanted to put it into her own hands, and the other wanted to protect her. Beth was responsible for herself, for better or worse. It was up to  _ her  _ to ensure she was being taken care of. And after the attack a week ago, she had become more active in her own care.

  Except where her stitches were concerned. Beth remained stationary as Daryl approached, and obliged with a shift of her arm as he lifted her shirt. She appeared disaffected, head lolled to one side. “I  _ like _ bein’ curled into a ball.” Beth pushed at his hand, to inspect the stitches herself. The swelling was a problem, but it wasn’t awful. She looked sullenly up at Daryl, her expression thoroughly dissatisfied.

  “Hey, did you tell me t’come downstairs last night?” Beth pushed her shirt back down, and did her best to disguise the wince. She did not succeed. But instead, she sat patiently on the bed, hands in her lap, attention upturned at the archer. She snatched at his forearm, to tug him towards the foldout, to keep him from  _ going _ . 

…

  Daryl shifted his gaze from her stitches to look up at her eyes. Beth seemed on the path to recovery, aside from the top part. It was something that he’d have to watch and wait for, to see if it got worse. With any luck her body would fight it off and it’d go down on its own. He’d break out the antibiotics, whatever the fuck he needed to, to make it okay. The last thing he needed was to lose Beth to something like an  _ infection _ .

  “Y’can curl up in a ball all y’want once your stitches are out.” He would never understand how that position was comfortable. He had to be sprawled out in order to be comfortable. Night after night, Beth fell asleep in the rocking chair by Judith. She would always be curled up in a tiny ball, notebook in hand. He’d never understand how she did it, or why for that matter. 

  Daryl rolled his shoulders at her question, about how she got down here. He mumbled something incoherent before he cleared his throat. He noticed the wince when she tugged her shirt back down and his brows furrowed in slight concern. His plan was to leave after he checked on her stitches, to go off and be of use somewhere. The next thing he knew she was gripped to his forearm, and had tugged him to the bed. He rolled his head as he reluctantly sat down next to her. 

  “Dunno, you looked comfy… Didn’t wanna wake y’up. So I just -- “ There was a shrug. “ _ Carried _ you down here.”

...

  It shouldn’t surprise Beth, the way Daryl was here because of her injury. He stuck on her when she was injured, and then he’d be gone as soon as she was well. It was a weird pattern, but he stuck to it. She had to wonder if he even recognized it himself. Beth hugged a knee up to her chest, which only caused another arc of pain, and it was  _ annoying _ .

  Beth threaded her fingers through her hair. She wondered if he’d mention that night, where he’d strung her back together, and she’d thrown up cookies all over the place. Moreover, how she’d fought, and killed. He didn’t owe her that conversation, or any conversation, but he had prodded her to speak when she wanted to. Even if he couldn’t  _ talk _ , he wanted to listen.

  “Oh.” Beth kept her hand on his forearm, her fingers idly twitched at the warmth and muscles. She couldn’t fully loop her hand around his forearm, but she could rest her weight on it. It wasn’t as if she’d  _ keep _ him there against his will. She wouldn’t be able to, or even  _ want _ to. “I looked  _ comfy _ ?” There’s a suggestion of a laugh, tucked in the corner of her lips.

…

  Honestly, Daryl didn’t see it as a Big Deal. He went past the nursery, because he knew Beth. She wasn’t downstairs, so she would be there, by Judith. When he saw her, curled up, he’d approached. He said her name softly, but she was conked out in the chair. There was a notebook on the floor that’d been dropped, and her arm was tucked around her knees. She just looked  _ comfortable _ .

  Not only that, but Beth looked like she hadn’t slept good in days. The last thing he wanted to do was wake her up, so he’d easily picked her up and carried her down the steps. He covered her up with a blanket making sure she’d be warm.

  Once she was laid on the couch, and he’d been able to take the floor. He’d leave out the part where he had watched her, to make sure she hadn’t stirred. The last thing he needed to do was make himself out to be some creep.

  Daryl shrugged, as it  _ wasn’t _ a big deal. She was curled up in a ball and she had needed to stretch out and that was that. It wasn’t like he did some big favor for her. He had looked out for her, like he always had. His cheeks tinted a light shade of red when she sound amused by the word  _ comfy _ .

  “Didn’t wanna wake ya.” He grumbled, his words barely audible as he shifted slightly. The hand on his forearm enough to send goosebumps along his arm. 

  This was Rick and Michonne’s house and Beth stayed here because of Judith and he stayed here because he drifted. Okay, so that wasn’t the whole truth of it. Largely he stayed here to keep an eye on Beth, and to make sure that she was okay. He wanted to make sure that she was healing, but instead she slept like she had a death wish. Each night he’d do the rounds, come back to the house and like clockwork she usually fell asleep in that damn rocking chair. Rick would often wake her, but Daryl didn’t have the confidence to. 

  Once she was better, he’d resume switching houses. He’d couch surf from place to place, and never really calling one  _ home _ . Beth wouldn’t need him around, and so he wouldn’t bother her.

…

  The arrangement of who slept were was very, very loose. Given the shifts in guard duty, and runs, there was an inconsistency of people. The life they’d had before, everyone slept as a collective, and if you were spread out, there was a problem.

  With the attack by the Wolves, as they were so called, had left so many houses empty but people didn’t spread. They bundled together even tighter, and Beth noticed the direction Daryl had taken. She was a touch annoyed by it, privately, because she could handle herself.

  Beth had become his personal project, and he’d taken the moniker of  _ doctor _ so seriously. She wished she hadn’t given it to him, and hidden her side, so he’d stop the worried glances. It would have been stupid of her to do that, though. And she didn’t mind that he was close, not at  _ all _ . She enjoyed it.

  It was more  _ why _ he was close to her now.

  “Because I would have told you to leave me there? I’d have  _ preferred  _ that. Judith might’ve woken up, and she’d have woken  _ Rick _ up, and I don’t... _ ”  _ The veins along his arms distracted her, and her thumb brushed over them.

  “I owe him, for last week. For not bein’ there, for him, and his kids -- that’s on me. I went off, and...”Beth shook her head, hair out of her face, eyes unfocused. “And I have a job to do. Doesn’t stop because I’m -- ” Her hand dropped back, to her lap, so she’d stop annoying him. “I’m fine. Like I keep sayin’.”

…

    Daryl tensed up at her words. Of course he hadn’t expected a thank you, because he hadn’t done it for that. He had done it was something that she needed to do. He never did things for a thank you, or for the recognition. He wanted to prove himself to his family, and to the people in Alexandria. He was always going out of his way to prove his worth with the group, even though he had done it time and time again. He wasn’t good enough -- he’d never feel good enough.

    “You don’t  _ owe _ anyone shit.” Daryl didn’t hide his anger at her response. Why couldn’t she accept the fact that she needed time to heal? She could help out Rick and the others when she was better.

  The way she said that it almost sounded like it had been ingrained into her, like it was something rehearsed, robotic  _ thing _ that’d been implanted into her. He didn’t understand why she couldn’t cut herself some slack, after what happened to her.

  No one expected her to bounce back so quickly after that injury, and if they did, they could go fuck themselves. He knew that he annoyed her with how frequently he checked up on her, but he honestly did not give a shit. Beth could hate him all she liked, so long as she got better.

  That’s all that mattered. 

   A  frown tugged on his lips when she dropped her hand, but it was disguised by a scowl. He stared at the door now, instead of at her. He was beyond done with how she worked to prove herself. Beth didn’t realize that it’s the same damn thing he’d been doing since the start.

  “ _ Fine. _ Next time I’ll just leave you up there.”He grumbled looking down to his own lap, to pick at invisible lint from his pants.

  Big fucking surprise. He screwed up. He was trying with Beth, and no matter what he did he kept  _ screwing _ up. 

…

  Beth was glad she’d removed her hand, seeing as he only arced up at her for her honesty. She had spent a week shadowed by him, with him not saying much of anything. But she saw him. She saw him skirting around the porch, or in the kitchen, and he’d always step closer when she’d let on she was sore.

  Beth learned to hide it better, but he was as observant as she was. After their talk on the porch, how he’d sought in her a reason to keep going, she felt like she’d let him down. Beth wasn’t an ideal; she was a flawed little girl, cut up more times than she’d been kissed.

  “I do owe people, Daryl. That doesn’t go away because I’m a little  _ sore _ . I’m eating, and I’m sleeping -- sorry if I’m not  _ sleeping _ right.” It’s said before Beth can think better of it, and maybe it had something to do with how  Beth couldn’t act smitten over how Daryl treated her.

  Daryl went on about how he’d screwed up, and it’d somehow become  _ his _ fault she’d been hurt. Whenever he’d left her in the past, she’d found a way to get hurt. That seemed to be the pattern. So by lingering, by hanging closer to her, maybe he hoped to stop that. He had condensed all this worry for her into a week, and Beth felt stifled.

  “The Wolves. They ain’t gonna come back. They would have, if they were gonna. That’s why you haven’t gone on runs -- right?” And Beth squinted, unsure what to make of him.

  Why couldn’t she be happy that Daryl was close to her? And that he was  _ worried _ about her? Maybe because it felt like she was being coddled. She was stronger than that, and didn’t need him to linger for his conscience.

  “They ain’t comin’ back.” This was said softer, no accusation or malice. Just a soft, directionless thing that she set before him.

…

  Daryl could feel his irritation grow deep in his chest, and he knew that he’d need to put a wedge between them. Again. The last thing that he wanted to do was blow up at her, especially because she was hurt. But the blonde was set on hurtful words, even if it wasn’t her intent.

  Beth saw right through him, she saw why he hadn’t gone on runs. She saw him as he stood on the porch and lingered close to her ever since she had been hurt.

  Clearly that was unwanted. He was unwanted. 

  The wolves weren’t coming back. If they were going to, they would have come back by now. Daryl still made excuses as to why he couldn’t go on runs. He told Aaron they’d go back out to look for people in the next week or so. Aaron understood why, he didn’t tell Daryl that but he knew why Daryl wanted to hang around, to make sure that Beth was okay.

  Aaron accepted it and he would have honestly done the same thing for Erik and it wasn’t like they were in a rush to find people. Right now they needed to focus on their own and bring in people that they really trusted. They couldn’t do that when Daryl’s head wasn’t in it. 

    The archer looked down to his hands, to fiddle with his fingers. He needed to keep his hands as busy as his mind, for fear of what he’d do -- of what he’d done, before, when the anger got to him. He chewed on the inside of his cheek gently.

  Daryl felt like an  _ annoyance _ . “I wanted to make sure  _ you’re  _ – that everythin’ is okay.” His voice was quiet, and he felt so small by her side. The whole reason that he checked up on her so much was because he wanted to be around her.

  He wanted an excuse to talk to her and all it seemed to do was piss her off. It wasn’t that he didn’t think she was strong because he knew she was strong. She was probably the strongest person that he knew and she wasn’t given enough credit. 

  “I’ll leave ya  _ alone _ .”

  That wasn’t entirely true though. He’d still be around, watching her from a distance to make sure that she was okay but he’d distance himself from her. His attention only annoyed her, and his closeness was a burden. Clearly she didn’t enjoy his company like he enjoyed hers. 

…

  There’s that shift, the one that  _ always _ came whenever Beth started to hit an upswing with her healing. She might still have some healing to do, sure, but the way he checked in on her all the time had gone from sweet to pestering.

  It shouldn’t annoy her, and it  _ didn’t _ , but it was how he didn’t see her. He’d only touch her if it was about her stitches, or if he’d  _ move _ her in her sleep. She would welcome a hug, a _ peck _ on the cheek, or a damn high five... Anything that wasn’t  _ about _ how sore she was.

  It’s immature, and dumb, but she doesn’t claim to be otherwise. Her arms were crossed, her fingers worrying across her side. She was in one of the shirts Maggie had gotten for her, a little blue camisole with lace and spaghetti straps. She’d had one much like it, back at her farm. She stared at Daryl, unsure what to make of his silence.

  There’s an angle to him now, but she can’t make out his expression. He’s pissed, no doubt, she can tell that much. Her fingers worried, and worried, and there’s another wince.

  “Sometimes it’d be nice to talk about other stuff. Maybe about how Carol made that really nice lasagna the other day? Or how Aaron and you met. Like how we used to talk.” And Beth fidgeted with her fingers, eyebrows furrowed. She looked down, to see a smattering of blood. Her arm shifted, to look down her side.

  Through her fidgeting, and stretching, the already upset cut had begun to seep a thick red down her side. It coated her fingers, and her camisole, and she wanted to cry. Not from pain, but from frustration. The blood wasn’t so  _ much _ , not as bad as it had been. Not as much as it’d been before, when she’d first been cut, but enough.

  Beth tightly crossed her arms, and stood up from the bed.

  “I’m not sayin’  _ leave me alone _ . I’m saying, stop makin’ me feel so lonely when you’re right here with me.”

  And Beth took towards the bathroom, intent on seeing to her stupid, stubborn cut.

…

  Daryl he had gone through great lengths to check up on her, and to make sure that she was good. But the two hadn’t had a real conversation in a while, not as much as they could have. It was only about her cut, how she was feeling that day and if any of her stitches had opened up from the way she was sleeping.

  Or, most commonly, the fact that she  _ wasn’t _ taking care of herself. She always insisted that she was fine and that she could care for herself but clearly she wasn’t fine, and she wasn’t doing what she needed in order to heal. 

  Daryl needed to leave, and the line that hurt the worse was that he made her feel lonely even when he had been around. He’d been on her for the past week, constantly checking on her,  _ with _ her, but that wasn’t enough?

_   Well what the fuck ever, girl.  _

  Daryl wanted a smoke, and he wanted to get the hell out of the house – but then he saw it.

  When Beth stepped up and away from him, he looked to her. There’s the dark red on her light blue shirt, and his brows furrowed in concern. “Dammit Beth.” He breathed out. This was exactly what happened when you fidgeted too much with stitches. If only she would have listened.

  Beth headed to the bathroom without a word edgewise to him. She hadn’t asked for his help, but he didn’t  _ care _ . He knew it would annoy the Hell out of her, but he wanted to make sure she was okay. If the stitches had opened up, he’d have to do another set, and he didn’t  _ want _ to, but he’d have to. She couldn't do that herself.

  “Beth–” He called, and all he could do was cringe at how sick of him she must be.  _ Didn’t matter _ , he repeated to himself. Didn’t matter if she was sick of him. He moved after her, chest heavy with anxiety over how she’d react.

  Daryl made his way to the bathroom, and stopped by the ajar. He nudged it open, to look over to her. He avoided her pointed gaze and focused on her torso.

  “Lemme see–” Daryl expected her to rebuff him, to tell him to get out. “We can talk about lasagna or whatever while I look at it.” There was a small medicine cabinet in the bathroom that had just essentials like gauze that he could put on to stop the bleeding. 


	12. disconnect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Have some fanart of the porch scene. B)](http://d3moira.tumblr.com/post/145097420721/digital-art-is-beyond-me-but-i-have-this-concept)

  Great.

  Of course Beth’s body would betray her like this. She’d made a big song and dance about how  _ fine _ she was, and she’d started bleeding. It was like whenever she’d go to her grandparents’ by the lake, and she’d get her period.

  Dumb body,  _ bleeding _ . Beth spun the situation out in a laughable direction, because anything else was cause for alarm. Stitches would bleed a little, Denise said, but they shouldn’t do more than spot on a bandage. This was more -- but she’d been  _ prodding  _ her stitches, in as self-flagellation.

  Beth had already started pawing through the supplies with her clean hand, with some antibacterial and a cotton bud. She was reminded of last week, but she’d been nearly unconscious last time. She bunched the cotton bud up in her hand, to exert her frustration.

  Then she heard Daryl, with an offer of assistance.

  Beth shouldn’t take it out on him, when he was only here to help. He’d wiped down her side, and stitched her up, and fetched her pajamas, and done all these  _ nice _ things, and she’d been an asshole. She was frankly surprised he tried now, given her attitude.

  “I know, I screwed up.” It’s dejected, given he’d looked at it only a short while ago. She’d jabbed it too many times, and she had screwed herself over

   It vaguely reminded her of the farmhouse, and how she’d turned to pain of all things to remedy her broken self. But that had only shown her that she wanted to live. So why was she so adamant she wanted to  _ live _ , only to sabotage her own healing?

  “Fine.”

  And Beth tugged her camisole over her head, unfazed. It should be more of a  _ thing _ for her to get shirtless in front of someone, but it’s no worse than a bikini. And Daryl had seen her undressed before, and like last time, she was  _ bleeding _ out of her side.

  All of that amounted to her, fingers pressed against her stitches, and the speckled blood across her ribs.

  “I’m not mad at you -- m’sick of being weak.”

  Beth  _ knew _ he’d disagree. Or worse, he’d agree with her, and tell her she was weak. She didn’t know what to expect, but she knew what she felt.

…

  In the face of her aggression, Daryl opted for calmness. There was no sense in provocation, not with the blood on her side and hand. He leaned up against the door frame, to watch as she went through the cabinet. Beth pulled out the supplies that were needed, and all he could do was hope that she’d let him help.

  That was the way things worked now. Beth would get hurt and he’d rush to her side and pester her until she had enough. It was the inverse of whenever he was hurt, where he’d push away from everyone and insist he was fine.

  Why couldn’t he let her in? 

  At her word  _ ‘fine’, _ he had stepped into the bathroom. He nudged the door shut with his foot, for her sake. Last thing she needed was Rick to burst in with questions -- not that she needed  _ him _ here, either. Whatever.

  Daryl watched blank faced as she she stripped off the camisole, his gaze fixed on the cut that ran the length of her side. It was bleeding on the top, where the skin was swollen. 

   “You just gotta be more careful, or they’ll open up and I’ll have to restitch ya.” That was the last thing he wanted. It had been so painful for her the first time, it’d be no better the second. He didn’t want to see her in pain either. It raised his hackles to think of all the sounds she’d made out of pain.

  Thankfully it looked like the stitches had held but they were barely hanging on, wanting to rip the skin. 

  Daryl took the cotton ball from her hand and poured the alcohol on it. “’s gonna sting.” He figured she knew the drill by now, but he wanted to warn her all the same. He carefully swabbed the top of the stitches with the bud, and twinged his lips as it fizzed.

  Once it was cleaned he added the anti-bacterial to it, to then cover it with new, clean gauze. With a flick of his gaze, he looked to Beth’s cheek which was turned away from him. She hadn’t complained much, outside of low breathes or the sounds she tried to disguise. He taped up the sides and hoped that this would stop the bleeding. 

  “You’re the strongest person I know Beth.” He breathed out, as the gauze was taped and her side was (hopefully) okay. He hadn’t said it out of pity, or to make her feel better. He sternly met her gaze, to let her know that he really  _ meant  _ that.

…

  It’d been a week of idle touches, and persistent checks, and so Beth had become desensitized to this. This world didn’t allow for modesty, not like  _ before _ , and Beth didn’t so much demand it with Daryl. She wouldn’t run about shirtless with anyone else, save for perhaps Maggie or Carol, the  _ women _ , but she got it. There was an injury she needed checked, and she’d only made this all the worse for herself.

  The camisole had been a new favorite, and she’d worn it a few times because of that. It was  _ annoying _ that it’d been damaged by her fidgeting hands. It meant a lot more work for herself, to salvage the shirt from the stains. Not that anyone would mind a bloodstain, but she would mind, because it was through her own negligence.

  “I know, I don’t want more stitches...” Beth frowned, at herself. She really didn’t want a worse scar, or stitches, but she was on the way to  _ both _ with her behavior. Her hands shifted across the fabric, which she pushed under the faucet. The blood wouldn’t come out if she didn’t get it quickly.

  Daryl his hands at her side, and so her hands stilled on the fabric. She pressed her hip against the counter, her arms crossed over her chest. She hissed at the alcohol and the sting it caused, and furiously wiped at the mistiness that rose in her eyes.

  There’s quiet as he worked, despite what she’d said, before. She did want to talk to him, about anything he wanted to talk about, so long as it wasn’t about the bad. She knew the bad, and she’d not  _ pretend  _ it didn’t exist, but she didn’t want to dwell.

  It was only a few quick swipes, some attention to the stitches, and then there’s a bandage in place. It’s all very routine and gentle. It’s sweet, how kind his hands can be when they’re not on a knife or gun.

  Except, what he said? That wasn’t what she had expected. Beth turned to him, with wide eyes that had fought back tears. They still hung at the edges, at the corners, but she blinked it away.

  “I’m  _ stubborn _ , I’ll give you that.” She’d insisted there was more than a suckass camp and mudsnakes, she’d insisted on booze, she’d insisted their group was alive, she’s  _ insisted _ her way through most of Grady. On top of that all, she’d straight up  _ refused _ to die, even when she’d been shot in the head.

  But  _ strong _ ?

  “You’re stronger than me. Way stronger. Ain’t even an argument.” And Beth swallowed hard, eyes set on the pinkish water that her shirt swum in.

…

  The last thing Daryl ever wanted to do was cause her pain, he knew that the pain would be temporary and eventually go away. For now, she winced at his touch, and he tried his best to be gentle for her.  The last thing the girl needed was roughness, in a world that worked so hard to harm her.

  Daryl wished he had an excuse to touch her when she wasn’t hurt. He would given anything to have an excuse to wrap his arms around her, and tug her close, but he didn’t. He doubted that she would want that anyway. He’d pester her, and she’d want to push him away. He wouldn’t even blame her for that.

  Once Daryl was finished he took a step back, to give her space. His gaze shifted over the remainder of the stitches, to make sure that it was only the top part that was bleeding. It then dawned on him how comfortable she was around him, and how easily she let others see her scars. Not that she had a  _ choice _ . 

  This wasn’t the first time she had taken her shirt off in front of him, either, and the last time she had she wasn’t even had a bra on. If she was self-conscious it didn’t show. Why couldn’t he be that comfortable? Why couldn’t he be that brave with her.

  “Yeah, you’re stubborn as  _ Hell _ .”

  A small smile tugging on his lips, given that her stubbornness is what kept her alive. Sure, at times it drove him crazy but without that there was no way she would have made it through Grady. If she would have given up, she would have never found them again.

  It was more than stubbornness though, it was strength. Hell, it was a combination of both, and that’s what made her who she was. That was the reason she was alive, not because of him, not because of anyone else. The girl survived on her own. He was simply lucky enough to exist with her,  _ around _ her.

  Maybe in the physical strength sense, he was stronger than her. He could lift her like it was nothing, and he had honed arms and core strength, but that didn’t mean shit to him sometimes. Sometimes he wanted to fold onto the ground and no longer  _ exist _ , and that strength didn’t mean a damn thing.

  Beth had all the emotional strength that he never would. She held herself together, and always had kind words for others, and stern words too. Beth was able to hold him up when he’d broken down on the porch. She’d given him a reason to push forward, time and again.

  Daryl shook his head, arms crossed over his chest. “That ain’t true. Y’stronger than ya think.” These were words he’d given before, to Maggie. Beth didn’t know she was strong, but she  _ was _ . She carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, and still kept her head held high.

  “You’re strong enough to hold both of us up.” 

  It dawned on him that she wasn’t  _ dressed _ . She stood in the middle of the bathroom, pale and pink and  _ light _ , and he was a creep. He stripped off his jacket, to hang it over her shoulders. Her shirt was in the sink, and she’d need to fetch a new one no doubt.

  Also, Beth didn’t need to have lingering conversations with an old man while half-dressed. It shifted the tone of it all, and made him as uncomfortable as she must be.

…

  Beth snorted as he agreed about her being stubborn. At least he didn’t argue that. Because of her stubbornness, they left their crappy camp and went in search of alcohol. It’s spurred them And if she’d not listened to Daryl at that funeral home, if she’d fought alongside him instead of running, she might have saved herself. Her attitude had gotten her into as much trouble as it had gotten her out of, and she wasn’t about to  _ change _ .

  “What happens when I can’t be, though? Like, on the porch. You needed me, and I kept screwin’ up. And I’m screwin’ up  _ now _ , I know. I used t’be good at helpin’ others.” Beth frowned, her attention back on Daryl.

  Were it not for the cut, Beth didn’t think she’d be so calm about this. It’s not for a lack of trust, and not because she’s  _ shy _ . It’s just that you don’t romp around shirtless for no good reason. But there’s a jacket set around her, like he’d done for her when he’d first found her. Or when she’d found him.

  It’d been  _ mutual _ . They’d found each other.

  The blonde slipped her arms into the sleeves, to better cuddle the jacket to her. She’d fetch a shirt, but right now, she didn’t want to get a shirt dirty -- oh, wait. She glanced down, to check her side.

  “I might’ve got blood on this.” She shot him an apologetic look, lips pursed tightly together. There’s a moment, where she thought to move closer, but she’d wait. She didn’t want to simplify it down to a hug and a shrug. She wanted to hear his opinion, if he had one, and then they’d go from there.

  Beth had always tried to say the right thing, and give others strength. She’d been doing  _ neither _ with her return, despite how much she had changed through Grady. Maybe the changes were all awful. She’d become more reckless, and cared more about others than herself.

  So what if she was cut, or bruised, or battered? There were bigger issues than her physical well-being. It was a slippery slope towards not caring at all about herself, and... That had been a problem, before. She had lost all her self-preservation, and attempted suicide. She couldn’t be blasé about her mental health.

  “I need you, too. Ain’t just me, holdin’ you up.”

…

  Back at the porch, he had been  _ extremely _ selfish. He had asked her to tell him that everything was going to be okay, and disregarded the fact that she was hurt too. He had needed to feel something outside of the darkness, and he needed her there by his side.

  Afterwards he had felt  guilty about the whole thing. That was nothing new. He tended to feel guilt about anything and everything he did with Beth, or  _ didn’t _ do. But on the porch, she’d cuddled close to him, and sang to him. All because he had asked for a sign that they’d be okay.

  “Not everyone can be strong all the time Beth.” Even Rick who was their leader had breaking points and moments where he just snapped and completely lost it. They had seen it a few times in all of their time with him.

  “Even the strongest people have weak moments.”

  Everyone always thought of him as so strong, so untouchable, but he felt close to broken more than he ever felt whole. Beth’s return shifted that, though the scars, the cuts, they reminded him that she wasn’t safe. None of them were.

  “You’re not screwin’ up. I mean, yeah, with your stitches…” He began, his voice traied off after a moment. “You’re still good at helpin’ people.” He reminded her.

  Daryl didn’t want her to think that she wasn’t helpful. It wasn’t only him that she’d helped. Beth was annoyingly selfless, and always put others before herself. She took care of Judith like the toddler was her own flesh and blood, and Beth would always spread herself thin to prove herself.

  Everyone else was so wrapped up in their own stuff, that they didn’t notice how hard the blonde was trying. Maybe they were used to Beth, always there to pick up the slack, always happy to take on the jobs that kept things running smooth.

  Daryl waved his hand dismissively as she said that she might have gotten blood on it. It had seen a whole lot worse than that.

  “Don’t worry ‘bout it.” All that mattered was she was covered up and that she was warm. “’s just a little blood.”

  Blood was something that they were all so used to by this point. He was pretty sure he didn’t have an article of clothing that hadn’t been spattered or soaked with blood at some point. He washed it all as well as he could manage, but that was the advantage of black clothes.

  Daryl shifted his gaze from the floor to look up to her. Honestly, it was something that was nice to hear, that she needed him in some way. He often felt like he relied too much on her, and that he offered nothing in return.

  It was downright  _ nice _ to feel wanted, for who he was and not what he could do. With Beth, he felt  _ needed _ and it made his heart swell. He took a step forward, unsure of what to do, or how to act.

  The only thing he did know was he needed something with her, some closeness, and so he reached forward. He wrapped his arms loosely around her shoulders, and tugged her into his chest. Beth met him willingly, her arms settled around him, and it was so fucking  _ nice _ .

…

  It isn’t a secret that Beth relied on Daryl. Anyone who watched her would see how she looked to him when they were in a group, or she’d always sit herself by him. There was a proximity that they’d fostered through their time together, and only got stronger as Beth settled into Alexandria. She wasn’t the same girl as before, but that was for the best. Daryl wasn’t the same man she’d been with at the funeral home. He had grown into some softness, and she wondered where that came from.

  Daryl had never been properly mean to her, not unless you counted the times she had  _ provoked _ him. There was a way she could speak, with sharpened syllables and accusatory lilts, and it’d rile him. She knew that. She’d done it at the moonshine cabin, when she’d been sick of his attitude. Or how he’d lock down, more like. She kept her attention on him as he spoke, to assure her that she hadn’t screwed up -- stitches  _ aside _ , anyway.

  The nonchalance about blood was at least reassuring. No one seemed to care about it lately, save for her. She tried to keep her clothes clean, but she had that luxury. She wasn’t out on runs, she was just around town, around Judith. She wanted to be clean enough for the little girl, so she wouldn’t provoke an illness.

  There’s quiet, which drew her attention up. Seemed that she had matched his movement, given their eyes met. She dipped her chin, though her eyes remained wide. Then he approached, slowly, then all at once.

  Beth’s arms mechanically unfolded from in front of her, to sit around his ribs. Beth breathed this against his chest. The little pop buttons dug into her cheek. She ignored it, nuzzled into him. It was a form of apology, for how dismissive she had been earlier.

  Beth wanted to say something, about how  _ a little blood _ kept them together, and how she was sick of it. She didn’t want either of them injured. But maybe that’s the issue; in this world, there’s always going to be injuries, illness,  _ things _ hurting you.

  You need someone with you, to check up on you. And maybe Daryl wasn’t checking up on her, just for her.

  It was as much for him, and his anxiety over her being gone.

…

  Daryl always needed an excuse to touch her. If it was to tend to her wounds, or to get her attention, it was enough for him. It was all the little touches, that started back at the prison of all places. It built, and built until he found comfort in her hand against his.

  Even at the funeral home, when she’d grab his hand first and he’d lace their fingers together. It was always her, against him  _ after him _ \-- right now he had and he had to hope that he’d continue to have the courage to make the first sort of move.

  Not like this was a  _ move _ . It was an offer of comfort, because she needed it. Hell, he needed it, too. He figured it was his turn to go out of his way to make her feel wanted. The last thing he wanted was to have her think he was only around because she was hurt.

  Daryl wanted to be around her, for more than that.

  Beth was drowned in leather, and worried about her blood on it. That was the last thing on his mind, given the slim arms wound around his torso. A smile tugged on his lips as she nuzzled even closer to him.

  Daryl couldn’t put into words the warmth he felt in his chest whenever she was close to him. Right now his heart was pounding so loudly that he was sure she was able to hear it. 

  Daryl shifted his gaze to look down to her. He could see their reflection in the mirror, with her face pressed up against his chest and his fingertips gently brushed against her shoulder. He had no intention to let go.

  If she wanted the hug to end, she would have to push him away.

  “’m sorry.” He finally said. He knew he had made her mad, and he needed to apologize for it. Whether it was for how he pestered her, or how he’d made her feel weak, he was sorry for all of it. She deserved so much more than he had on offer, but she didn’t seem to realize it.

…

  The fights were always the worst. It’d be one of them with a comment that’s too close to mean, and the other would either match it, or back down. They’d circle, all teeth and narrowed eyes, and then one would crack. Right now she wasn’t sure  _ how _ it had progressed, but she could feel the slow release of tension. He’d been close to running, before her side had opened up. It might have something to do with his instincts as a tracker, like he could scent her blood or her grief, and he clung to her because of it.

  That, or he found another excuse to spend time with her. Because Daryl needed that. She noticed how easily he would stand away from her, or leave without provocation. But when she needed him, he’d drop whatever it was  _ for _ her.

  Daryl sourced her clothes, fetched her food, and did too many other things, all because he wanted to take care of her. Except that’s what Daryl did; he helped others, and he went out of his way to  _ ensure _ that everyone was fed and sheltered.

_ Except it’s so much more than that, _ Beth echoed, her mouth tightly shut. He certainly didn’t hug people, not unless there was some big  _ thing _ that happened. If someone returned, or someone needed it --

  Beth couldn’t think of a time where she’d seen him hug someone. Not even herself, not for no reason. There may have been a reason here, though. She started as he spoke, to say  _ sorry _ of all things.

  “Sorry for what?”

  Beth drew back enough to look up. Her arms remained around him, though she couldn’t say where this apology had come from. They’d disagreed briefly, sure, but it wasn’t something he had to apologize for.

  Daryl had been worried about her because she was reckless, and she’d  _ proved _ him right. There was a disconnect, in her survival instinct and a lack of care for her body. It’d started at the farm, and returned at Grady -- she couldn’t carry it here, too.

  “I’m the one, actin’ like it doesn’t matter; like I don’t matter. Like you carin’ doesn’t matter.” Beth retained eye contact, as best she could. She’d always pull away first, she noticed. She started things, she’d end things. This wouldn’t be the case now. Not unless someone came through to use the bathroom.

  Beth was gonna stick this out, because she owed him that. She owed him a quiet moment, where they weren’t all about the problems. Even if this was  _ still _ about the problems; maybe they’d move past it, and just be quietly together. Like they used to do.

…

  Daryl figured he’d leave the ‘heavy’ stuff for another time. He felt like a lot of things were his fault, when she was taken, the whole gash in her side. Those things could have been avoided if he had just been there instead of sending her off.

  “For bein’ around all the time, botherin’ you -- I know you’re strong, ‘s not that.” Daryl felt like he always needed to check on her, to make sure that she was really there. Honestly it was for his own good more than it was for hers. It was to put his mind at ease that she was okay, that she was alive. At worst, her encounter with the wolf had been another scar to add to the collection that she shouldn’t have to begin with.

  Daryl had scars too, and he’d tell her about them. Not right now, but another time.

  Right now it was about her, and  _ them _ . He figured he owed her that apology, and he hoped that she’d take it. He’d try harder to not only be around when she was hurt, and to give her space. He knew that his presence in the past week had suffocated her.

  The archer was surprised when she didn’t pull away, aside from how she drew back enough to look up at him. He did his best to hold eye contact with her, given he was inclined to stare at the wall or the floor.

  But he surprised himself, and kept her gaze while she spoke to him. It was true, she did act like she didn’t matter and he didn’t understand that. She was important, she was so fucking important, not only to him but to the entire group.

  Maybe especially to him, but  _ that _ didn’t matter.

  “Guess we both got things we need to work on.” His eyes drifted from hers to her lips, a few seconds too long, too direct, and he had to look away. His attention settled on the tiled wall behind her, with pale white tiles and little seashell patterns.

  What the  _ Hell _ was he thinking?

  Daryl didn’t even know at this point. His mind completely frazzled from the close proximity of the blonde, and from the big blue eyes and pouted pink lips.

  He was fucked.

…

  Beth knew whenever she lamented over his prods and pokes that he wouldn’t see it for what it was. His eager attention centered on her was actually nice, at first. She felt seen, and cared for, and she appreciated that.

  It wasn’t the closeness that she disliked, but that it was their only times of closeness. At least he had been honest with her. Beth could work with that. She remained with him, her hands rested against his sides, her eyes half-lidded up at him.

  There’s more attention on her than she’s used to; at least, more attention on her eyes. For whatever reason, Daryl had issues with that. He could stare down anyone with ease, but he’d never meet her eye.

  Beth would have to snatch at his chin and pull him close to get his attention the way she wanted it. But she hated forcing him to be close to her, and that was a large part of why she hated how he doted on her when she was injured.

  Daryl’s shift of attention to her lips was not missed. As if by response, her chin lifted and her eyes hovered near shut as she examined him. It was similar to all the other times they’d been close, but simply more. Her proximity, and tilted chin, they’re set. It’s not an invitation, not directly, but Beth wouldn’t so much mind if it was taken as one.

  “I’m willin’ to work on it, with you.”

And then there’s an ear-shattering  _ wail _ of Judith, even with a whole floor between them. Beth dipped back, enough to stare upwards. She knit her brows together, fists now at his chest, eyes narrowed. She was about to cuss, but there was no point.

  Judith needed her, and Daryl could wait.

  He’d  _ have _ to wait, honestly.

  “I think it’s lunch time, and she’s a real princess when she’s hungry. You gonna stay, for lunch? I could whip up somethin’.” And there’s this pleaded quality to her voice, her hands still set against his chest. This isn’t like all the other times. This was in daylight, with his jacket wrapped around her, and his arms to match.

  Beth kept her eyes focused up at him, not ashamed to seem desperate.

…

    Daryl had felt like he had messed up, he let himself get close and then his eyes lingered to her lips and he was sure he gave himself away. He was sure he gave away what was running through his head and now he couldn’t even look at her because he would just turn to a whole different shade of red, his cheeks already tinted a light shade of pink. 

    He nodded slowly, gaze still on the white shower curtain instead of on her and he chewed on the inside of his cheek. He was grateful that she hadn’t pulled away or shoved him off after he had pretty much stared at her lips for a good moment or two. Maybe this was a gin that she wouldn’t have minded him taking the next step—no that was crazy talk. 

    The next thing he heard was the sound of Judith screaming from downstairs and maybe that was a sign that things weren’t supposed to go further. Every time he got somewhere with Beth, something would just get in the way. Normally it was himself, and how he’d overthink every aspect of it.

  “I wish I could but I gotta do guard duty.” He wished that he could stay, but it was probably for the best he left. He had taken Abraham’s guard shift, so the redhead could ‘take care of business’, whatever that meant. 

  Daryl didn’t want to know and just agreed to it. 

  “Next time.”He murmured, whenever that would be—not tomorrow probably not next week but sometime in the near future and the thought of that made his stomach twist in knots.

  “I’ll see ya though, remember..take care of yourself, sleep stretched out.” He murmured before finally taking a step back, his hand still on her shoulder offering it a gentle squeeze before his hand fell back to his side and he ducked out of the bathroom.

  Daryl hadn’t missed how she’d wilted, her arms crunched inward through the leather, fingers set at her sides. He only hoped she didn’t pop her stitches again. He couldn’t keep doing this.


	13. the c word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I moved, so sorry for the delay. Thank you for comments & kudos, you are all lovely. Will have the next part up shortly! ♥

  Fresh food, water, tampons, all these things are hard to come by as the apocalypse pushed on. They were all easy to find compared to Daryl Dixon. Beth had let on too much of what she felt for him, and he took off like a bolt. She pretended it could be okay, like their talk in the Grimes’ bathroom would actually turn into more conversations, but she’s delusional. She’s less achy than before, her side no longer  _ bleeding _ whenever she coughed too hard, but she’s an idiot.

  Beth believed him, when he said  _ next time _ . It’d been a few days, nothing markedly  _ huge _ , but it was enough time to notice how he dipped his head to avoid her eye, or how he’d take to a sidepath. Beth would feel bad, if she weren’t so mad about it. They talked it through, she thought. They talked, and talked, and she’d go  _ blue _ for all this talk.

  But even if she’s an idiot, she’s a smart idiot. Her hair is bunched up in ponytails either side of her head, and she has a satchel, and she has a target.

  “Scoot over.”

  Beth was on the ladder without his permission. She was glad that Daryl was so set on his job of  _ guard duty _ , that he’d missed her approach. Or he’d ignored it, in the hopes she’d leave when he failed to acknowledge her. But Beth isn’t going to pretend the moment in the bathroom hadn’t happened. She’s not smart, or stupid, or anything, honestly she’s only  _ peeved _ because he’s a jackass.

  An annoyingly cute jackass.

…

  There was  _ something _ there, with Beth --  _ for _ Beth.

  Daryl couldn’t explain what it was, but he knew what it felt like. That was enough to scare the Hell out of him. He brushed her off like he  _ always _ did and said he’d see her later but he made it a point to avoid her like she was infected. So instead of facing whatever it was between the two of them he just pushed her away and took up more guard shifts.

  Aaron hadn’t planned any runs for supplies or people, given he wanted some time with Eric, and Daryl was close to begging the other man to go outside of these walls with him. Aaron kept at it, said they would go out next week, but Daryl wasn’t sure next week would ever come. He didn’t want to go out on his own, either, not for too long.

  The archer was standing, his gaze shifting over the trees in the distance making sure no movement was coming out from them. He was only an hour or so into his shift when he heard the clank of the ladder and someone was coming up it, before he could even begin to guess as to who it was he heard her voice. There was no running, he couldn’t just hop over the fence and take off running and she was currently on the only exit of the guard post. _ Well shit. _

  At first he didn’t look. He chewed at his inner cheek for a moment, as he realized there was no way to run. He was on guard duty and he wasn’t going to leave her here  _ alone _ . He shifted slightly so there would be room for her on the platform, not like she had given him much choice in the matter anyway. 

…

  “Why  _ thank _ you.”

  Beth spoke as if Daryl had invited her up, though from the lack of response, it was anything but. She’s all spread lipped and red cheeked, but most importantly, she’s determined. Because Beth would not allow herself to be dismissed, given that they’d had something, time and again. More than that, she didn’t want to lose her best friend purely because of that  _ something _ . She felt bad. Maybe he saw it in her eyes, that thing that  _ might _ be a crush, and it made him worry.

  “Thought I’d visit. I’ve got time off, from Judith, and the kitchen.” Beth stepped cautiously across the platform. It was secure, enough for  _ three _ people, but she didn’t want to tempt fate. She hoisted her backpack a touch, lip caught between her teeth.

  Despite her determination, she hadn’t expected to make it up here. She expected him to shove the ladder away, or shout at her, but neither happened. He stood, turned away from her. There’s the profile, the strong brow, heavy lids, blue eyes, but they’re all turned towards the forest. She glanced out, tongue flicked between her lips.

  “Busy day, huh.”

…

   It took everything he had to not roll his eyes to the sky as Beth thanked him. Still, he was stuck in this situation and he might as well make the best of it. Maybe now he’d not feel as guilty when he ignored her in the coming days, as he had humoured her now. No matter how guilty he felt, he knew it was for the best to push her away.

  Daryl offered her another nod, his posture slightly tense as his fingertips fiddled with the sheath around his belt, her knife. The holster needed to be mended, as it had been ripped and torn through time. He’d ask Carol to fix it, as there was no way he was going to get a new one. It had been the knife he’d given Beth, and in turn gotten back.

  “Mhm, busy day.” Daryl said fingertips tapping against the leather of the sheath. He didn’t look busy in fact it looked like he was just standing around waiting for something exciting to happen. He couldn’t put off the fact that he was busy and she needed to go.

  “’s pretty borin’ up here, nothin’ too excitin’ happens.” He said in the hopes that it would scare her off.

…

  In Beth’s direct line of sight, there were trees. Just, a  _ lot _ of trees. They were thick, and tall, and the leaves made it impossible to see much beyond them. A walker shambled by the edge of the trees, though it was having an awful time. He -  _ it was a man _ , she thought - ricocheted between low branches, all low growls.

  The tap of his fingers drew her attention; her knife. She had noticed it several times, but never thought to ask about it. She had a new knife now, and a crowbar at her hip. The weight grounded her, and allowed her to easily take down walkers from a distance. It also made for a useful tool. She liked how it looked on him, though. A little piece of her with him, to keep him safe; a talisman. She wondered if he thought about it that way, or if he thought about it for its practicality.

  A knife was a knife. Big deal, it had been hers.

   Beth inched sideways to check his upper arm with her elbow. “That’s changed now then, hm.” She tossed a smile up at him, hands framed on her hips. Maybe the tap of his fingers against the knife would unnerve others, but it didn’t bother her. She rarely found Daryl menacing, even when he tried to be. Maybe that was a mistake, or maybe she saw beyond the bared teeth to his sad eyes.

  “You been good?” Whether that meant his feelings, or if he’d been behaved, Beth left open.

…

  He couldn’t help but wonder if she noticed that he wore her knife, what she thought about it. He was waiting for the day that she’d ask for it back, he never offered it up to her. The day Carol gave it to him she knew that he needed it, he needed to carry a piece of her with him even though she was gone. Now she was back but he still couldn’t bring himself to give the knife back, he almost thought of it as good luck. It made him think of her and whenever he was outside the walls it was a reminder of what was back home,  _ what he was fighting for _ . 

  Beth was so  _ cheeky _ , gently nudging him with her arm—usually he inched away from contact but with her it was wanted. It felt wrong though, wanting to feel her touch so instead he just stood still, like if he’d move he’d scare her off. He couldn’t help but to snort a quiet laugh, “Uh yeah guess so…”He said as he wasn’t used to having company up on the guard post, sure whoever was on gate duty would try to have a casual conversation with him but it never amounted to much, their group new better then to engage in small talk with Daryl. 

The archer offered her a shrug, he hadn’t been bad—he hadn’t really been good either, he had been okay but she hadn’t asked that had she? “Been fine.”He said rolling his shoulders slightly as he dropped his hand back to his side. “What about you, your stitches holdin’?”He asked her finally allowing himself to look at her, his gaze shifting over her momentarily. 

…

  Beth wanted to die.

  No, not literally, just in every other way possible. Her picture of this surprise, in her head, had been playful. He’d smile and pull her close, and they’d talk, and she’d been an idiot. It wasn’t ever going to be like that, not with him. But she wanted to try, to see what they  _ could _ have. If he’d let her.

  There was a stiffness to his posture, and he didn’t seem  _ happy _ that she was here, but he wasn’t unhappy either. So what was the deal then? Beth kept the space between them, though the platform didn’t allow for much. She didn’t even know what she had planned to do up here with him.

  Wait, no, she  _ did _ .

  Beth thumbed off her backpack, and nearly threw it over the edge when he asked if her stitches were okay. There’s a flush of annoyance that struck between her throat and stomach, and they talked about this. He was only ever fixated on her injuries, or where he could  _ physically _ see her hurt. There was plenty of others kinds of hurt, buried beneath her skin. She tongued her inner cheek, eyebrow cocked higher on her forehead.

  “Yep, my stitches are fine.” Beth smiled, as if she wasn’t teetering on the point of  _ shouting _ at him. It was close, though. Instead she drew out her packed lunch. The one she’d made for them to share, a mix of jerky and a couple of packets of chips. It’s not the best thing ever, but she hadn’t had much to work with.

  “ _ I’ve _ been fine.” Beth added with an emphatic widening of her eyes. 

…

  Daryl picked up on the annoyance and he couldn’t help but wonder what it was he said. All he had done was asked how her stitches were because she  _ had _ already pulled them once. His gaze followed her as she took off her backpack and could tell the smile on her lips wasn’t genuine, it didn’t reach her eyes. 

   “That’s good.”He murmured quietly as she said that her stitches were fine but she clearly wasn’t fine. There was something going on with her and he couldn’t help but to assume that her sudden shift in mood was because of him, she was doing well though trying to cover it up regardless. 

  He didn’t want to outright call her a lie her but he wanted to get to the bottom of what was going on with her. “So you wanna talk about what’s  _ really _ goin’ on?”He asked her as he eyed one of the bags of lays chips that she had brought and snatched it up. He moved to open it up and shoveling a few into his mouth, licking the salt off his fingers. 

   Maybe he had missed something, maybe there was more going on then just the stitches and she had come here to talk about it. Either way he couldn’t run so really he had no choice but to face whatever this was. 

…

  The woods were quiet in front of them, and Beth wondered if Daryl even really needed to be here. He did. She knew that. But she wanted to yank him off to somewhere more private, so she could grill him properly. She’d have to settle for this painfully public discussion, because he  _ ran _ whenever she approached him otherwise.

  “I dunno, do  _ you  _ wanna talk about it?” Beth watched him stuff the chips into his mouth before she’d even opened her packet, and had to look away when he started tonguing his fingers. She looked down at her own bag, fingers twitching against the plastic. There’s a slight shake, as there tended to be with finer tasks. But she managed to open them after a moment, her tongue poked out between her lips.

  “You said you’d have lunch with me  _ next time _ , and it’s been... Four days?” Beth pinched her lips between her teeth, eyes emphatically larger for her rational. She plucked out one of the folded chips, eyes lit with amusement. “Make a wish.” She offered it up to him, pinched between her index finger and thumb.

  “Y’know, wish chips -- you make a wish when you eat th’folded ones.” She wiggled it again, as if to tempt him. “I’m pretty happy with how things are -- so you can have it.” Because she was mad at him, because he kept  _ away _ , but she knew. She saw it, even if he didn’t want her to.

…

  “Talk about  _ what _ ?” Daryl asked, there was nothing that he wanted to talk about. Sure there were things that needed to get talked about but he would shove those things away until absolutely necessary. He wasn’t about to volunteer up a conversation about feelings and that he felt something in the bathroom when he had tugged her close, that he felt something back at the prison. 

  Daryl felt guilty, he had said next time hadn’t he? But next time was such a general term it could have meant anytime in the near or distant future. “Been busy, I guess.” He said with a shrug, but that was only because he made himself busy. Rick offered him days to himself, but like the others he never accepted that time off.

  His gaze narrowed at the folded potato chip in her hand and he rose a brow as he carefully plucked it from her fingertips and examined it closely. “What are you on about?” He asked her curiously still not eating the potato chip yet, was this sort of like wishing on a star? He didn’t understand it in the least but he’d entertain her and not just gobble it up and get all the rules first. 

  A small smile tugged on his lips because she was  _ fucking _ adorable and he was kind of mad about it, she didn’t even have to  _ try _ . “So there ain’t nothin’ you’d wish for? You’re gonna give me your wish chip?” He asked her curiously. 

…

  “What d’you mean, what am I on about?”

  Beth had always fought with Shawn over his wish chips, and her brother would  _ always _ steal them off her. He’d say that her wishes wouldn’t come true because of a chip, and their mom would shout, and it’d be a whole  _ thing _ , but -- Daryl didn’t know about them? She frowned, nose turned up with confusion. 

  “You eat it, and you make a wish. That’s... Have you never heard of this?” Beth let her hand drop away, a proper  _ gawky _ expression turned up at him. She was glad she’d mentioned it now, seeing as he’d never had one before. She snatched up another chip of her own, to gobble it down.

  “Right now? No. I got back to my family, Maggie’s alive, life is pretty... It’s better. It’s better than I thought it’d be, when I woke up at Grady.” Beth was focused out over the trees, mindful of all that she had lost. The thing was, she’d never  _ get _ her parents back, or her brother. No amount of wishes would do that.

  “I got you back, too.” Beth looked straight down at her hands, her voice softer. She peeked sideways to him. The moment in the bathroom didn’t matter, not  _ really _ . Daryl was her best friend in this world, and she wanted whatever he had to give her. It wasn’t a matter of  _ pressure _ , or to take anything from him. She wanted to give him things, and she wanted to be there for him. She couldn’t do that if she was wrapped up in her head, angry about being slighted.

…

   This was just another thing he hadn’t heard about from the  _ old _ life, he never made a wish on anything—but he’d wish on a damn potato chip if that’s what would make Beth happy. She had given up her wish chip to give him a wish, he knew it was  _ silly _ but he couldn’t care less—it was okay to be silly and have hope in faith in things…even potato chips.

  “Nah I ain’t ever heard of it.” He said as he looked back down to his chip, chewing on the inside of his cheek for a moment as he mulled over what he wanted to wish for. He’d say his wish in silence, he wished for her happiness—that she’d be happy and never lose her faith in anything, especially not in wish chips and then he popped the potato chip in his mouth and wiped his hand on his pants. 

  His cheeks flushed a light shade of pink at her words, _ she had him back _ . Daryl shot her a look, his gaze shifting over her for a moment as his heart hammered away in his chest. Beth was his best friend, she had told him that countless times at the prison–when they were on their own. Just a best friend and nothing more, no reason to get all worked up. 

   “Still—next wish chip is yours, gotta be somethin’ else you want.” He insisted, he couldn’t just take all her wish chips. He figured she’d wish for something selfless, something for someone else or for this place to work out, regardless he wanted her to have everything she could ever want. 

…

  It had been corny, but Beth had decided that Daryl deserved a touch of corniness in his life. He seemed so set on the serious and morose side of life, with the life he’d had  _ before _ , so she decided it was her job to show him. She could teach him things about hope and wish chips and maybe some of those schoolyard clapping games. Not that she thought he was a kid, and she hadn’t played in that way in years, but it was a nice break.

  “I don’t need wishes t’get what I want.” Beth tossed him a coquettish smirk. She broke the expression to snack on a few more chips. They weren’t as crunchy as they’d once been, and they’d be off soon, but they were  _ okay _ . They certainly weren’t the kind of food she’d have eaten as a meal before.

  “Okay, I have an idea -- we’re gonna play I Spy.” Beth tongued the flavoring off her fingers, attention turned out over the treetops. She squinted over the distance, and didn’t allow Daryl a chance to deny her suggestion. She bounced up onto the balls of her feet, as if she was in search of the best thing she could find, and then -- 

  “I spy with my little eye, somethin’ beginnin’ with C.” And she tossed her head to look at him, dramatic and  _ emphatic,  _ to await his first guess. She wouldn’t ask what he had wished for. It was likely something selfless, for the group. Maybe for supplies, or food, or for a break. She knew it was bad luck to ask, too. 

…

  Daryl didn’t know how she did it but Beth always seemed to ooze confidence, she’d say something that would catch him off guard and leave him a flustered mess.  _ She didn’t need wishes to get what she wanted _ , well wasn’t that nice. His lips parted slightly as he tried to think of something to fire back at her but he came back with nothing, mumbling something incoherent with a quiet sigh. 

   “ _ Really _ ?” He asked with a slight eye roll at the suggestion of playing I Spy. He had never played before, okay that was a like because he had once got an I spy book for Christmas from his grandmother and he’d play by himself in his room. That didn’t really count though as he knew the kids at school played it with each other and they didn’t need a book to play. 

  It felt childish to play the game that he hadn’t played in over twenty years, a game that he never got to play with anyone else. “ _ Beth _ —” He began to protest but she was already looking around excitedly to see what she could spy and then she had already started and it was too late. He couldn’t just back out now because he didn’t want to see the look of disappointment on her face. 

   He couldn’t help but to laugh quietly as he saw how excited she got as she waited for him to guess. He looked out over the wall to the first thing he spotted, a car—surely it couldn’t be that easy. Right? “A car…” He said shifting his gaze to look over to her, wondering if he was even doing this right. 

…

  Beth always played this with Maggie on guard duty, more at the prison than now. She would visit her sister, or her sister would visit her. It seemed only fair that Daryl get to pass the time with someone, as opposed to being alone. That was why she’d brought the food, and insisted herself up into his space.

  Also because Beth wasn’t blind. There had been moments -- more than a  _ few _ \-- that made her question what Daryl saw in her. He’d linger with her, hug her, touch her... She wasn’t dumb. Or maybe she was, and she was on a path to get her heart stomped in the dirt. The protests and eye rolls were nothing new. Daryl always liked to act all  _ better _ than this stuff; the fun stuff.

  “Nope.” Beth shook her head, arms crossed and her hip cocked out to the side. She stared at him, rather than the expanse in front of them. She didn’t want to give it away. And she wasn’t sure if she  _ wanted _ him to guess it, to have a sense of satisfaction. Because sure, it was more fun to win, but Daryl... He could use a win.

  “I’ll give you two more chances -- best of three. Then we can switch out. Don’t wanna make you  _ suffer. _ ” And she waited expectantly for his next guess, eyes set on his face. It was little moments like this that she was thankful for. She had never been  _ guaranteed _ to find her family again, but she had. She’d gotten lucky a few times over, and her hope had paid off.

..

  Daryl wasn’t aware of the rules and maybe that’s something that he should have asked but he didn’t want Beth to know this was yet  _ another _ thing that he had never done. It was stupid and it wasn’t like it was a big deal he just didn’t want her making a big thing of it, she had acted surprised that he had never heard of a wish chip after all. 

  Hw had been so sure that it was a car, that she’d go easy on him for the first round but now he was left searching around—his eyes scanning the perimeter. He looked to her after a moment but she wasn’t giving anything away, keeping her gaze on him. 

  His cheeks flushed slightly as all her attention was on him, even though he was sure that the only reason she kept her gaze on him was to not give the answer away. Regardless, it still made him nervous and kept him from avoiding her gaze. “Uhh—” He began to say as he was flustered. Nothing new, given it was Beth.

  Blue hues scanned over the wall and below them looking for ‘C’ words and then a small smile tugged on his lips,  _ okay this had to be it. _ He turned to face her, eyes set on the blonde. He paused, as if to consider the choice and her in turn, and pushed forward when he was sure. 

  “Concrete?” He asked her as he rose a brow, he was running out of guesses and he only had one left—this had to be it. 

...

  The rules were house rules, as tended to be the way with the Greene family. Shawn had a habit of strange  _ things _ , like  _ dust _ or  _ eyelashes _ , and the game would never end. Her mother had made the rule up to curb Maggie’s shrieks of indignant rage, and Beth’s sobs of how  _ unfair _ it was. Hershel always picked easy things, the things that Beth would guess first.

  So Beth  _ thought _ she’d picked an easy one. As far as she was concerned anyway, given how fixated her family had been on the sky, and the sunsets. Her mother was attached to them, and would always be seen by the kitchen window with her hands still over the dishes and a lost smile on her face. Beth hadn’t thought about all that in a  _ long _ time, with no time to reminisce. She wondered if Annette would have liked Alexandria, and if she’d have liked Daryl.

  “Concrete? No!” Beth had to laugh, and gently nudge Daryl with the flat of her palm. It’s only soft, and gentle, and she realized that they were close. Not  _ so _ close, not cuddly close, but  _ closer _ . They seemed to do a lot of things closer nowadays, by her choice or his. “One more go.”

  Beth chewed at her lip, to stop herself from any further laughs. She hadn’t expected Daryl to participate in her game, and she didn’t expect him to get nervous. It’s a whole surprise, from the ground up. Her arms remained crossed and her attention remained on him, chin turned upwards, eyes half-lidded.

…

  Daryl couldn’t believe that he had agreed to this game, now he was left with only one guess and he was starting to feel stupid. It was probably something completely obvious and he just wasn’t seeing it. Now she was laughing, the blush on his cheek only darkened as he chewed on the inside of his cheek—waiting for the answer to pop out at him. 

  “Beth  _ I dunno _ —” He began to say starting to feel like he was back in school, when the teacher would call on him and he didn’t know the answer and the other kids would laugh at him. He had to remind himself that it was just Beth and she wasn’t laughing  _ at _ him. Regardless he still felt anxious, shifting his gaze down to look at Beth, it had to be something on her. 

  Daryl looked over her clothes for a moment not seeing a single thing that started with a ‘C’ until he got to her shoes,  _ Converse _ . That had to be it, this was his last guess and he was almost certain that it had to be it. Since they never went over the rules he wondered if he had to do something stupid if he were to lose, with the  _ I Never _ game he had to take a shot—so what happened if he lost this? 

   “ _ Converse _ ?” He asked her, this time not sounding as confident in his response as the others. He was preparing himself for another laugh and another gentle nudge and probably her going off about how silly he was. 


	14. hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

  Beth had thought their proximity had been the thing to tip off the redness in his cheeks. As she tamped down her laughter and watched him, it shifted. For whatever reason, he seemed anxious. Sort of? Like how he’d gone so quiet during the  _ I Never _ game. That had been something fun, that she’d seen her friends play.

  But this was I Spy, and the only real consequence was… What? A loss. It wasn’t a huge deal, not unless Beth really rubbed it in. So as he insisted he didn’t  _ know _ , and that he kept his eyes downward, she worried. She didn’t want this to be another time that he got frustrated because – because maybe he hadn’t played this. Or, he’d not played it in so long.

  Really, who  _ hadn’t _ played I Spy?

  “Yeah.” Beth sighed loudly, her head dropped back and her eyes rolled to the sky. She framed her hands on her hips, and looked as defeated as possible. “Yep. It was  _ Converse _ .” Except that it hadn’t been. But she hadn’t come out to  _ win _ , and she hadn’t picked something hard. Her word had been  _ clouds _ , and she thought that was easy enough.

  Except for Daryl, he didn’t  _ look _ at clouds. He didn’t even glance up once the whole time they’d been here, and she never saw him lost in the sky. There was more directly around him that he was worried about. They had looked at the stars before, when she’d learned to track. And then when they’d run, too beat to do anything but watch clouds pass.

  “Okay, so, it’s your turn.” Beth wiggled her eyebrows at him, hands still set on her hips.

…

  He quickly looked up when she had said ‘ _ Yeah _ ’ a small grin tugging on his lips and then it turned to a larger one. Sure Daryl had been competitive, that’s the way he had always been but it wasn’t so much that he cared about winning but he did care about looking  _ stupid _ in front of Beth.  

  He had got the answer on the last try and he felt relieved, his shoulders dipping down slightly as he finally felt himself starting to relax, maybe he’d get the hang of this game after all. Not every game had to end in yelling like  _ ‘I have never’ _ had, he wanted to be able to have fun with her. He wanted to be able to play silly games that he never got to play before and games that she hadn’t played in a long time.

  The smile was still on his lips, his posture relaxed as she said that it was his turn and he scanned the perimeter for something that he could use for her. She had picked a hard one, something not so obvious so he figured he needed to do something a bit harder than the trees or a car—because she had not gone easy on him. 

  “Alright I spy—”He began to say as he tried to think of something good, he spotted a walker off int he distance wearing a red shirt and that reminded him of the red rag in his back pocket, that would be a hard one to guess. “I spy somethin’ red.”He said before turning to face her, doing the same thing that she was doing as to not give himself away. He kept his gaze on her, looking quite smug. 

...

 Beth was relieved that Daryl hadn’t pried. She worried that he’d go off at her, about  _ letting  _ him off easy. She didn’t want to argue, and she only wanted to show him that they could have  _ fun _ together. She kept her attention on him, and could honestly say it was the happiest she’d ever been to lose in her life. There’s a release and a lift to him, which in turn allowed  _ her _ to relax.

  Given the expanse of green and blue, Beth furrowed her brow. There was pretty much  _ nothing _ red, unless they had very different opinions on the color. She tongued her teeth behind pursed lips, only to toss a look  _ behind  _ them. She let out a low hum, only to idly hip check Daryl. Only softly, enough to bug him.

  “Is it Abraham?” Beth looked back to Daryl, her smile huge across her face. “Or  _ you _ ?” And she laughed again. He had a smirk himself, which she couldn’t help but match. It was nice, to see him bolster out of his win. She wanted to ask if he’d played this before, but she didn’t know if that was too much.

  Instead she awaited his yes or no, though something told her  _ neither _ guess had been right. It wasn’t about the game, and it never had been. It’d just been something to remove the pressure of conversation, and to stop his trail of  _ we should talk about this _ \-- because what was  _ this?  _

…

  It seemed as if she always went out of her way to invade his space, his personal bubble that everyone knew to stay away from. Instead she would touch him, a brush of her hand or a gentle nudge of her hip against his— _ it made him want more.  _ He was confused, he doubted he’d ever get an answer on what this was because there was no way in hell he was ready to have that conversation. Not now, probably not  _ ever _ . 

  Regardless he still bumped her back with his hip, his stomach doing that weird flip flop thing again that he no longer questioned when he was around her.

  “No it ain’t Abraham.” He shot her a look as he knew his cheeks were red. He’d blame it on the heat or something, because there was no way he would ever admit that he was blushing. 

  “That’s two—you got one guess left so you better quit messin’ around.” He said in a matter of fact tone as he took her last guess as  _ messing around. _ It seemed she enjoyed messing with him, he’d see the way she’d smirk whenever she was able to get a blush out of him. He couldn’t run this time, not like he really wanted to as this was the most fun he had ever had on guard duty. 

  He could practically taste the win, she had one guess left and he was facing her—his red rag currently out of sight. Technically it wasn’t cheating as she had seen the rag before, he always wore it—it was always handy in his back pocket in case he were to ever need it. 

…

 Beth had to bite down her smile, so as to not give away how nice it was to fool around. Life was very strict and serious now, and it had to be -- but sometimes there could be  _ this _ . They could smile, and play games, and spend time together. It didn’t have to be darkness and an emphasis on where they had failed.

  The look on his face when she said  _ him _ was worth it. He always had a ruddy tinge to his face, from work, from a run, from running, but they were on the fence. There wasn’t much in the way of exertion, not unless you counted thought. “I’m not messin’ around! I was bein’ plenty serious. You are red. S’just a  _ fact _ .” So Beth winked up at him, her head ducked as she laughed.

  “Okay! Serious guess.”

  And Beth turned her attention out over the green and blue, and there was only  _ one _ thing red that she saw. She tossed a look sideways at him, her eyes narrowed. “That walker?” As she said it, she knew she had lost. For a game she had suggested, she’d lost twice. The first had been out of kindness, and the second was out of her own cockiness.

…

  “’s hot out here, just from the sun–” He quickly fought back, not wanting her to think it was because of anything else. It was her, it was always because of her but he could never tell her that. Not only would it go straight to her head and the teasing would never stop but because he could never have the courage to be bold like that. 

  He had to turn away from her when she had winked, she was so damn cocky— _ damn her _ . He wished he could have even a  _ fraction _ of that confidence. Instead he was left blushing like an idiot at a single touch from her, she had that effect on him and he was starting to think that she was realizing it. 

   He watched as she looked out to look over the wall and he knew that he had this one in the bag. “Nope.” He said and he was all grins as he pulled the red rag out from his back pocket. “This.” He showed her the rag before waving it around for a moment. “You sure you’ve played this game before Greene, you’re not very good.” He smirked. 

...

  The red rag waved in her face gave Beth the same rush she imagined bulls got. The movement, the color, the cockiness, honestly she didn’t know which part struck her. Maybe it was the cockiness, which was shift from how downturned and  _ crumpled _ he’d been when he’d been down to his last guess. Beth didn’t care about the game, or the points. Right now she felt her blood hum in her veins as her own cheeks lit up.

  “Yeah, well, forgive me, I’m not in the habit of lookin’ at your  _ ass _ \-- “ Beth bit down, her fingers curled against her mouth. It was partly to stop herself from  _ cackling _ , and as an apology for the curse. Even though he said far worse on a regular basis. She tossed her head, attention turned out to the trees in front of them.

  “I’ll remember that for next time though, that you play dirty.”

  Okay, this was ridiculous. Beth blinked slowly at him, turned towards him, the moments between them crystallized. She didn’t know exactly what had happened, or what this was, but... It wasn’t only her, was it? Or it was. She felt her limbs shiver and her chest ache and she knew what this was.

  It was how she’d been, a few times. Maybe it wasn’t a visible shake or shiver, and she  _ seemed _ cool on the outside, but her insides were a mess. “Wanna do one more round? Best of five?” Beth offered this, lips parted and not even sure she wanted to play another round. But they had to -- she couldn’t just  _ lose _ .

…

   His hand slowly lowered, fingertips working the fabric of the worn rag as he shot her a  _ look _ . Daryl had only heard her cuss a handful of times and he had caught it every single time, it wasn’t common–everyone else cursed and it wasn’t a big deal. When Beth cussed however, that was a big deal as she didn’t do it very often. It almost sounded strange such filthy words leaving her lips. 

  She was such a _ little shit,  _ he had won the round but it felt like she had won everything. She knew exactly what to say to get a reaction out of him, it just wasn’t fair. “Yeah well—” He began to say, trying to come up with something but he had nothing so he waved his rag once more before moving to stuff it back into his back pocket before awkwardly clearing his throat. 

  As he was trying to stuff the rag into his back pocket she had gone and said that he played dirty and instead of stuffing it into his pocket he had missed and dropped it to the ground, cheeks burning red as he mumbled something incoherent under his breath.  _ What the hell was she doing? _ He quickly bent down, snatching the red fabric off the floor, avoiding her gaze before he stuffed it back into his pocket. 

  “I dunno—” He responded, he didn’t really care to play another round as he was beyond distracted  _ by he _ r. He finally shifted his gaze off the ground to meet hers, looking at her curiously. 

…

  Beth had beyond pushed the limits. There had been moments, sort of  _ fleeting _ moments that felt like it was flirting. She’d never really tried it properly, and she’d never been shy with that sort of thing. If she liked a boy, it was made known. She’d asked out Zach at the prison, or as good as. But this? it was Daryl, and he was such a good friend...

  More than that. Hell, he’d been more than that since the prison. They’d spent a few nights in the library, or out under the stars where he’d taught her to navigate. It’d been short and too little, but it’d come before the illness. Then they’d escaped, and she’d learned more about him, good and bad, and she didn’t  _ care _ .

  Beth  _ liked _ him.

  Crap.

  It wasn’t even a proper surprise. She had known it since, God, forever. Since way too long ago, when she’d not even had the scars on her face. She felt her breathing shift, and her cheeks thump red, and she was just... She felt like an idiot. She’d pushed too much, and he...

  “Okay, well, we don’t have to.” Beth stared over the edge of the wall, her spark all worn down by her own worries. “I thought we were having fun.”

…

  He noticed the way her mood changed when he said he didn’t know about another game, how her cheeks flushed probably out of embarrassment and he hadn’t meant to make her feel like that. He just figured it was time they actually  _ talked _ , this was going to be hard for him and he already knew that. This conversation should have happened a long time ago but he kept putting it off but right now he felt a bit of courage and he figured he should use it before it disappeared. 

  “We can play again some other time—right now I think we should talk.” He began to say, looking over to her just watching her for a moment as she looked over the edge of the wall and she looked concerned. “We were havin’ fun–” He added, not wanting her to feel like he wasn’t. That had been fun, all of this had been fun but at the end of the day he’d go back to the house lay on the floor and just stare up at the ceiling and  _ think _ . 

  “This…” He began to say motioning his hand between the two of them because he wasn’t sure what to call it, “I know  _ this _ ‘s just fun for you and I get it believe me I do. I just, I can’t do it anymore, I know that nothin’ will ever happen from it and it just—” He began to say chewing on the inside of his cheek.

  “ _ It hurts _ .” 

  He knew he wasn’t going to be more to her than just someone to flirt with because she was bored. It’d never amount to more because what could she ever see in  _ him _ ?

…

  Were.

  They  _ were _ having fun -- and that was what Beth was afraid of. Her push had been too much, and Daryl got it, and it wasn’t insecurity, or awkwardness. He was just nice, and he didn’t feel the same way. When he’d run in the bathroom, there was two options. Either he liked her back... Or the more  _ likely _ , he was uncomfortable because of her. And he was too nice to just  _ say it _ .

  But now Daryl had said it. She had her next thing picked, for I Spy, but that didn’t matter now. Her mouth was still formed in a little laugh, like she was going to make a joke. Everything in her wilted, though she  _ knew _ this was how it’d play out. She knew it, when she’d pushed, and pushed.

  Daryl was too nice, and that had only prolonged this. She felt so small and stupid, and her arms formed a tight knot across her chest. She remained like this, lips pursed together around whatever her gut reflex was. There’s quiet between them as she thought, her mouth opened to offer something -- but nothing game out.

  Instead of any words, she let out too breathy sigh. It was that dumb sound she’d make before she cried, and she  _ knew _ it, but she couldn’t  _ stop _ it. Her hands snapped to her cheeks, before her tears were down her cheeks. The motion drew attention to them, as she aggressively wiped at her eyes.

  “If it’s fun for me, what is it for  _ you _ ? Okay. Right. I get it.” There’s a broken laugh, from how it’d been packed at the back of her throat for too long. “ _ Nothing _ . Yeah. You’re right. How could anythin’ happen when you’re so set on makin’ sure there’s a gap between you and anyone who cares.”

  Why did Beth think this would go differently. Maybe it was the gunshot wound that sat through her head, that made her stupid enough to believe anything  _ could _ happen. Instead she pushed at her hair, her hands set on the bag she’d dropped on the floor. She crouched by it to try and snap it closed, so -- so she had something to distract herself with.

  “Sorry I  _ hurt _ you. Won’t do it again.”

...   
  


  The last thing that he ever wanted to do was hurt her, he’d hurt himself a hundred times before hurting her even once. Why did he have to go and say anything? He was trying—he was trying to open up to her and explain what he was thinking but all it had done was hurt her and blow up in his face. 

  “ _ Beth _ —” He breathed out his heart aching in his chest as he saw the tears, he had hurt her and he  _ hated _ himself for that. He was always screwing up, even when he was trying to resolve what was going on he just managed to  _ fuck up _ . “’s not nothin’…”He began to say his voice trailing off, he couldn’t even look at her. He had caused her to cry and he had caused her to be upset, he didn’t have any right to look at her. 

  He tentatively took a step forward crouching down slightly his hand reaching for her arm, expecting her to smack him away. It hurt to be close to her but he’d suffer as long as she didn’t, he wanted her happy–he didn’t want her to cry anymore. 

   “I jus’ wanted to talk, to try and tell you what’s goin’ through my head—’m stupid ‘m sorry.”He said quickly, feeling a lump in his throat as it  _ broke his heart  _ to see her like this. Especially since he was the cause. She had ever right to push his hand away and run off since that’s what he always did. When the conversation got difficult he’d make up an excuse to leave. 

   His fingertips wrapping gently around her forearm pulling gently to tug her so she was at his level, his fingertips reaching down to brush at her tears. “’m sorry–”It was all he could say, he had screwed up and he probably owed her a million apologies at this point. 

…

  Grady had given Beth time to think, about her family, and about all that she would do when she was reunited with them. Even now, she remembered how excited she had been to see Daryl again. But the place had twisted her, and her motives, and made her into a  _ martyr _ , not a woman. She existed as a pawn to be shoved around.

  Now that she was in Alexandria, she got it. Things weren’t idyllic, and people had been hurt, and she’d made up this big  _ fantasy _ to entertain. She didn’t know why, when she had been so happy to just be close with Daryl. She’d screwed it up, and pushed too hard, and now she was  _ crying _ , and she hurt. Physically, through the trail the bullet had seared, and through her chest.

  Really, she should have pushed him away, because this hurt him. This, being close to her,  _ hurt _ him. She didn’t want to hurt him. She was selfish, and childish, and weak. Her head remained dipped, so she wouldn’t have look at him. That was a bust, given he thumbed at her face to wipe away her tears. There’s salt on them, probably his  _ spit _ , but she doesn’t even care.

  It was stupid, because she’d spent  _ months _ away from him, and she wanted him, yet she couldn’t even meet his eye right now. Not when she felt so exposed, and he kept rotating between apologies. There was nothing to apologize for. She had overstepped, and he was hurt. She liked him, and it was one-sided.

  Of course it fucking was.

  “Stop sayin’ your sorry.”

  It’s said softly, not as angry as she felt. Because her anger wasn’t at him, not at all. It was at herself, for not doing right by him. She’d cornered him on guard duty, and forced him to play dumb games, and eat a stupid chip. “I thought you liked when I was -- I thought you liked this.” She shook off his hands from her face, to let her chin drop again.

…

  The only thing that he could think to say was  _ ‘I’m Sorry.’ _ I’m sorry I keep pushing you away, I’m sorry for making you cry, I’m sorry I’m a giant fuck up. He had an endless list of things to apologize for so why not start now? But she was telling him to stop, she probably didn’t want to hear it—he didn’t deserve to be forgiven for anything. 

  “I do— _ like _ this.”He began to say, because he had  _ loved _ this. In the moment he enjoyed these times but later when he was alone he felt  _ empty _ because he knew they would never amount to anything. At the end of the day Beth wasn’t his girl, she could date anyone she pleased and if one day he were to wake up and see her off with someone—it would kill him. 

  He reluctantly dropped his hands when she had shook her head, his gaze shifting over her features watching as she ducked her head down, not looking at him. “I guess I was just–tryin’ to find out what  _ this _ is.”He murmured quietly. He had gone about it the wrong way, instead of just asking her what this was he had said that it needed to stop, so he wouldn’t get hurt.

  He hadn’t thought about her, that she would be hurt by this. He figured it was just another game to her, something fun to fill her time because she was bored. “I don’t wanna upset you, I don’t wanna lose you—I don’t wanna screw up what we have.”He began to say, chewing on his lower lip as he mulled over what to  _ do _ .    

  “You’re my  _ best _ friend.”He added, he couldn’t lose her. His heart was hammering in his chest as he leaned forward pressing a swift kiss to her cheek before quickly pulling back. His eyes widening slightly—staring at her at her with his mouth agape as he realized what he had just done. It was a  _ simple _ gesture of affection that he had seen countless others do,  _ but it was much more than that.  _

 

…

  Beth had forced herself up here today with an offering of food and games, and she had a set goal. She’d wanted to resolve this, whatever had formed between them. It surfaced with how he’d linger by her side or watch her sleep. She wasn’t stupid. She’d woken up a few times, seen the glint of blue in the dark. It never made her self-conscious, not in the way she used to be.

  Normally it was a relief to have Daryl close to her, with soft words and kind touches. Right now, she felt suffocated because it was all because she was  _ hurt _ , again. She’d let the tears fall, and he’d switched, and it was a pattern. “Stop thinkin’ you know what’s best for me, then. Because you’re wrong.” Beth narrowed her eyebrows, a deep breath to center her words. “When you act like I shouldn’t be around you, ‘cause I make you happy. It’s  _ bullshit _ , and you know it is.”

  Daryl pushed her away, time and again, because of reasons she didn’t even know. But she knew it was in him, whether they were things he thought, or things he projected onto her. There’s a flush down her neck and cheeks as stubble and softness hit her cheek. It’s mostly nose and it’s enough to make her eyes flutter shut.

  Did he just -- 

  Beth’s eyes reopened to a shift of grey and floral print in the grass below. Carol, impassive and a flick of a smirk at the corners of her lips.

  “Oh, no, don’t mind  _ me _ . Olivia asked me where you were, and ah -- ”

  Beth smiled down at the woman, cheeks red. “Lunch break over?“

  “Yeah, big time. Unless you two need a minute. Just, saw you over here...” Carol looked over the pair. “Thought I’d see if it’s an issue.”

  Beth swiped again at her wet cheeks, lips pursed tightly together. She peered up at the sun, and how it’d ticked so far over. She’d gotten decent at telling the time from the position of the sun, and -- Daryl. She blinked at him, mouth gawked open a fraction.

  “I should... I can’t make Carol cover me anymore, I’m...” Beth was a deep shade of red, almost afraid. “Later, though. Okay? Please?”

…

  The archer quickly turned around looking down into the grass where Carol was peering up at the two of them, a knowing smile on her face and he wanted to  _ die _ . The next time Carol got him alone he was sure the woman would ask him what all that was about, she would tease him relentlessly and—he just didn’t want to think about that right now. 

  He quickly looked away from her turning to face Beth once more, his gaze shifting over her face as he tried to read her expression—all he could see was  _ surprise _ . Maybe he had pushed too far, he wasn’t one for physical contact and instead of hugging her he had kissed her on the cheek and it was messy and he could see a light red mark on her cheek from where his stubble had brushed and it would soon fade. 

  “Yeah— _ later _ .” He said though later never came with the two of them, it was entirely his fault too. Whenever he said later it meant never and he assumed the same with Beth. All he wanted was one minute, her assuring him that he hadn’t just screwed things up between the two of them with a  _ damn _ kiss on the cheek. 

  Beth almost looked  _ afraid _ , she had that same expression that she wore in the funeral home when Daryl admitted that she was the reason he still believed that their were good people out there. He didn’t know what it was she was afraid of, him? The idea of being more with him? He probably would never find out either. She was leaving, he was on guard duty and now he was stuck up here regretting his actions. 

  He took a step back from her moving to step toward the wall, his hands gripping the metal as he kept look out,  _ doing his job _ .

…

  All the warmth and closeness was sapped immediately, and that was Beth’s fault. She had thought he had rejected her, rejected  _ them _ , and acted accordingly. But her snap decision to shift away and accept Carol’s prompt was enough time for him to read into her expression and pull away. It was all a lot of push and pull, and right now, she’d  _ pushed _ .

  Daryl was already away from her, turned away. He was as dutiful as Beth tried to be, and all she wanted was a few more minutes with him. But with Carol down below with watchful eyes and the knowledge she’d screwed up her job, she couldn’t linger.

  Beth pushed closer, arms around his middle, her face pressed against his wings. She hugged him for a moment, enough for herself, and then bobbed back. She snatched up her backpack and set off down the steps, her heart still too quick inside her chest. At the bottom was Carol, who set an arm around her shoulders.

  “I’m good.” Beth said with a gentle laugh. They walked away, towards inventory and Beth didn’t have the space nor inclination to look back. She was too afraid to see Daryl, turned out and away. Instead she looked up to Carol, who looked something close to stern but not quite.

  “Saw you crying.” Carol offered, as if it explained it. “Was out with Judith, and... Didn’t mean t’interrupt. Just, thought I’d...” The older woman let out a sigh, as unsure as Beth was. “He’s a good man.”

  “I know.” Beth pushed her hair out of her face.


	15. hidden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) oh boy.

  Daryl was supposed to come back last night. He knew that, down to his bones, that it wasn’t safe to linger outside the walls. It had formed in his mind, and left it as he put his foot down. He convinced Aaron that it was too late to make their way through the forests to Alexandria. He jutted his chin towards a hovel, all vines and acrid rot, where they could hole up.

  Aaron was eager to get back to Eric, but he trusted Daryl when it came to these calls. It would be safer to travel in the morning, rather than the dim light of the moon. There were too many muddy dips and crippled walkers. All it took was one bite, and you were out.

  That had been last night; now, they were nearly back. Daryl had made breakfast – squirrels -- to put off their return as much as possible. Except now, with the sun up and the loom of a shift he would miss if he didn’t return. He had never been late for a shift change, and he wasn’t about to start today.

  They trip back was spent in silence, with Aaron eager to see Eric and Daryl eager to get up on that guard tower post. Once they got back to the gates, Rosita opened up the chainlink fence. Daryl went straight for the ladder, and stopped halfway up. There were voices -- one was Beth, the other was Abraham.

  Daryl narrowed his eyes up against the sunlight, the outline of Abraham cut against the early sunlight. He squinted, unsure as to  _ why _ he was up there. It was supposed to be Spencer. 

…

  If Beth had a dollar for every time she  _ believed _ Daryl when he said later, she would have enough money to start a bonfire. Maybe even enough to create an effigy to burn alongside it, but she wasn’t so bitter. Not yet.

  Oh, but she was close. So, so close.

  It started with the kiss on the cheek, after he’d told her  _ nothing  _ would happen, but before he’d promised to talk to her later. Forgive Beth if she felt the heat of bitterness rise in her chest when she lost Daryl again, because he realized she was okay. She should just cut off her legs or something, for he may never stick around otherwise.

  Really.

  “They said they’d be back at six o’clock,  _ last night, _ and I get it, I  _ get _ there is delays, but a whole... Fourteen hours? Fifteen?”

  “Mh.”

  “I’m not tryin’ to be rude, but that’s just... That’s unreliable. That’s dangerous.”

  “Mh.”

  “And -- oh  _ look _ .”

  The little blonde head popped over the edge, eyes narrowed down at the grass.

  There was a rattle of the ladder, where Abraham had peered over the edge. “Dixon, fetch your girl and make her shut her trap.”

  “That ain’t nice.” Beth sneered in Abraham’s direction, to which Rosita could only smirk.

  It seemed a touch more on edge, annoyed, or frustrated, given that Beth had been there most of the morning. She’d taken off the day, given that Daryl hadn’t gotten back the night before. She’d spent the night ready to go  _ out  _ after the men, but she wasn’t  _ allowed _ .

  “You. House.”

  Beth had climbed down, nostrils flared and eyes narrowed. Above them was the low chuckle of Abraham, who seemed to have caught something Rosita had whispered in Spanish. Beth shot the pair a look, which only gained her their backs. They didn’t  _ care _ about her tirade. Which, fine.

  It was justified, though.

…

  Daryl first spotted the redhead, and then he saw the angry blonde,  _ oh shit _ .

  It was too late.

  He had been spotted, and he couldn’t just jump down and run — well, he could, but he’d dig himself a deeper hole. He shot Abraham a look when he had said  _ his girl, _ and he moved to climb back down the ladder as he was sure Beth would follow suit.

  He stumbled backwards as he saw Beth slide down the ladder with untoward speed, as her feet pounded harder than necessary on each step.

  “Someone’s in the dog house tonight!” Rosita called with a quiet laugh, and Daryl was as red as a tomato. They were acting like a couple, all of this was how the rest of the couples acted. The way Beth spoke to him, how the others reacted, this wasn’t how you treated your best friend.

  He wanted to argue and say he would keep Abraham company, but he was sure if he did Beth would explode. Or worse, she’d go quiet.

  “Fine—” He said with a dramatic sigh, though he searched for help. Rosita and Abraham paid them no attention, and Aaron was off down the street to go greet his husband.

  Daryl was alone, with Beth. Or he may as well be.

  He wasn’t sure what she was mad about. At a guess, it was because he’d avoided her again, or because he didn’t come back last night – it could be a whole number of things. He’d face it now that way he could go back to his regular jobs, he turned on his heels walking back toward the house, his head low as he knew he was about to get it. 

…

  Beth had, had another taste of what it would be like to lose Daryl, and she was beyond sick of it. She was sick of how she had to bounce on the spot when he was off on his bike, or how he’d not come back when he was supposed to. She had believed him when he’d said later, but instead he’d darted off on a run with Aaron.

  Runs were important, and so was guard duty. But Beth was selfish, and childish, and she knew this. She’d established this yesterday, when she had forced herself up onto the platform with him and lost at I Spy to see him smile. She didn’t know what any of that was, but she knew what they were. Or, she had an idea. She had a trajectory.

  Once they were at the Grimes home, she skipped up the steps, two a time, and gestured emphatically to Daryl. The theatricality came with her frustration, and she didn’t so much care if he was embarrassed. She was annoyed, because how many times would she had to slowly work her way into his space?

  Daryl, despite dragging his feet, took the prompt. She clicked the door shut behind her, her hands framed on her hips. Her eyes were narrowed at him, and she was  _ tired _ , because she’d hardly slept. She’d been kept up by her decision to go with Carol, to bow out when she had to step up.

  “What’s goin’ on.”

…

  The only thing he could hope for was that Rick was home, or at least someone was inside so the two of them wouldn’t be alone together. If Rick or Michonne were upstairs she’d curb her yelling and maybe she’d just put off this fight—or whatever this was all together. 

  A quiet sigh escaped his lips as she pointed to the door, how quickly she had taken those steps–he knew that she had meant business. He pushed open the door, practically dragging his feet as he stepped inside, his gaze darting around—there was no one in sight and the house was quiet.  _ They were alone _ . 

  He turned to face her when she stepped into the house, shutting the door behind her and he finally raised his head to look at her, “What do ya mean?” He asked her, maybe playing dumb would work in his favor. “The run ran late—was gettin’ dark so we decided to stay out last night, found an abandoned cabin.”

  That wasn’t the answer that she wanted but it was the answer she was going to get, he was sure that she meant what was going on with them, a question he didn’t have the answer to. 

…

  One could visibly see Beth’s brain shut down as Daryl feigned ignorance. She blinked rapidly to refocus her attention on him, though she appeared none the happier when she resurfaced. Her question had been dodged, and he was probably so  _ proud _ of himself for it. But she had spent the better part of the last day, deep in regret and worries.

  “I meant you kissin’ me on the cheek, and how you said I was hurtin’ you by bein’ nice -- all of  _ that _ .” Beth waved her hands. “I’m done with whatever has been goin’ on, since, God, since the  _ prison.  _ Aren’t you tired of it?” Beth swallowed hard, her words more direct than even she expected. She tossed her head, her ponytail pushed over her shoulder and away from her.

  “Either we’re nothing, or we’re something.”

…

  His cheeks burned as she brought back up the kiss. That was an innocent kiss to her cheek, a gesture of tenderness but nothing more -- but he had felt something more. He had wanted more, he wanted to kiss her, but he lacked the courage, and Carol had interrupted.

  Everything felt like Fate, set on a course to keep them far apart.

  “No–I ain’t tired of it.” He murmured, how could he be tired of something that he enjoyed so much? Sure it hurt—it hurt like hell being close to her and it was like a tease every damn day but he’d rather have that then have nothing at all.

  “What do  _ you _ want?” He asked her, because what he wanted didn’t matter. He wanted her, he had wanted her for a long time but none of that mattered. What mattered was what Beth wanted. “You’re the one with all the cards Beth.” He murmured quietly, his gaze shifting over her noticing how frustrated she was. 

  “All I know is that we’re not  _ nothing _ .”

…

  That was the logical thing to say. There was plenty of  _ logical _ things to say here. Beth could draw out a question about why he wasn’t tired of the by-play, how they danced around one another. She explain what she wanted, with too many words and so much room for error. There would be a see-saw of what they need and what they want, and Beth doesn’t  _ want  _ any of that.

  Because all of that she had tried. Beth had been patient, and soft, and understanding, and she had given him space. She had done so many things in the interest of his comfort, and they were no better off for it. She looked him once over before she stepped closer, her arms around his neck and her lips against his.

  It’s warm, that’s the first thing she gathered from the closeness. Daryl had been out in the sun, in leather and black, and he’s  _ hot _ . She set her hand against his cheek, her fingers lost in the scruff and her weight up and against him. It’s soft and gentle, more of a test than a  _ kiss _ . She very shyly swiped her tongue out and against his lips before she rocked back, as surprised as she felt by the gesture.

  “Okay -- so -- we’re  _ something _ .”

…

  He was ready for the fight, he was already preparing what he wanted to say and how he was ready to defend why he didn’t mind the little dance that they did but no words came, instead she stepped forward — her arms wrapping around his neck and he froze for a moment as he felt her inching forward. 

  His eyes slowly closed, heart hammering in his chest as he felt her lips on his and her fingertips resting on his cheek. His own arms moved to wrap around her waist, tugging her close because it felt like the  _ right _ thing to do. He was obviously winging all of this and he was grateful that Beth had taken the lead, he had tried to with the little peck on the cheek but he had failed miserably. 

  The kiss was gentle and almost tentative as if the two were unsure of their actions, because they  _ were _ . His fingertips gently brushing across her back and his eyes flickered open when he felt Beth slowly pulling away.  _ That was nice _ . 

  He nodded slowly in response because he couldn’t bring himself to speak, he didn’t want to say the wrong thing and mess up this moment so instead he leaned forward stealing another kiss—a peck against her lips just because he wanted to  _ show _ here that he wanted this too. 

  “Yea–we are.” He murmured before slowly pulling back from the peck. 

…

  It was too easy to bridge that gap, but Beth thought about the year she’d taken to get to this point. It could have been more or less than that, she honestly didn’t know at this point. There was a concept of time in Alexandria, with clocks, and calendars, but time wasn’t the same thing anymore. She toed her way closer to Daryl, all red and warm and bright.

  There’s too much blood in her head right now, so much so she may be in pain. Her arms shifted down, to wriggle underneath the leather so she could feel him as opposed to the weight of his jacket. She squinted at him, to check if this was  _ real _ , because she didn’t think it was. There was another peck, him against her, and she shivered all the way through her figure.

  Beth cast a look sideways, around Daryl, her eyes narrowed. “Back up.” And she gently pushed at his chest until he hit the foldout bed, her crumpled on top of him. She grinned, her limbs cast around him as best she could. This wasn’t so unfamiliar for her, given she’d sneaked around plenty with her boyfriends before.

  But now there’s a  _ something _ here with Daryl, and she has him till guard duty shifted around. She smiled down at him, and pecked him a few times more. They’re all light and soft until she wasn’t, and she idly nipped at his bottom lip. There’s a giggle, quietly, as she shifted in his lap.

…

   This wasn’t how he thought things were going to go, he expected her to yell a bit and scold him for running like he always had. He also expected her to be angry that he had spent the night outside the walls, that he’d be yelled at for worrying her.  _ Honestly _ they could have came back last night but he had put it off, convincing Aaron that the safest thing to do was to wait until dawn. 

  A shiver ran down his spine as Beth pushed her hands underneath the leather, feeling her fingertips through the thin fabric of his ripped flannel–goosebumps forming on his skin. He remembered when he used to  _ hate _ to be touched, but from her he craved it. He craved the affection from her. 

  He nodded slowly as she told him to back up and he listened to her, taking a few steps back his arms still wrapped around her as the back of his legs hit the pull out bed and he moved to sit down, pulling her on his lap. 

  Daryl had no idea where this was going, but he knew that he was supposed to take control at some point. A quiet noise escaped his lips at the feeling of her nipping at his lower lip, the time was now–he needed to be in control. He shifted, his hands on her waist picking her up as he moved his body so he was on top of her, his legs on either side of her thighs as he dipped his head down to kiss her lips once more. He deepened the kiss slightly, his tongue running across her lower lip as he brought his fingertips to comb through her hair. 

…

  This had been delayed too many times. From the prison, to their time together, to the reunion, all of it was slow steps towards this. The problem was, Beth wouldn’t  _ act _ . She wanted it, and she could have just  _ taken _ it, but it was like he had said. According to Daryl, all the cards were in her hands She wondered how much he wanted from her, but that question was answered.

  The shift of their position was a surprise. She allowed it, and eagerly shifted with his touch and only winced a  _ little _ as he snagged her side. Her ribs had healed, mostly, and she only got sore if she really stretched. Right now she was pinned beneath Daryl, her eyes vaguely opened to check that he was in fact there, and real -- and yeah. That was him.

 “Don’t come back late again.” It’s an idle threat, one she hardly meant. 

  Beth nudged him back, just enough, to better shift her position. She felt weird with her legs pinned beneath him, like she might knee him by mistake. She adjusted, and squirmed, and managed to get her legs either side of him, and it’s... Whatever. Beth was done with  _ thought _ .

  There was a massive sprawl of sleeping bags beneath them, and so she yanked one from the floor to toss over them. She grinned up at him, eager to return to the kiss. It’s hungrier now, more confidence, as if they’d done this so many more times.

  But they hadn’t. This is all a  _ snap, _ and she had wanted it for so long there wasn’t much to argue.

…

  All of this felt like a dream, he was sure that at any moment he’d wake up and he’d be alone in his sleeping bag and Beth would be a few people over snoring softly. This was real though, the touch of her skin and the feeling of her breath on his lips— _ all of it _ . The two of them had shifted until they found a position that was comfortable, her legs on either side of him and he noticed the  _ wince _ when he had switched positions. 

  He brought up his hand, fingertips barely grazing underneath her shirt just to skim his fingertips over her stitches, mainly to make sure that she didn’t open them up when he had shifted her. Once he didn’t feel any blood he slowly tugged his hand out from under her shirt and rested it on her waist. 

  “Sorry–” He murmured, his voice a touch  _ lower _ than usual–it had deeper a rasp to it. “I won’t.” He added, he’d be back early if this was the greeting he were to get when he came rolling back through the gates. He figured they should talk but that could wait, all they had been doing is waiting and waiting—they deserved this. 

  He couldn’t help but grin as he saw the look Beth was giving him, she was all smiles after she had managed to cover them up with a blanket. His eyes slowly closing as their lips crashed together once more, he kissed her hungrily–another groan lost in the kiss as he nipped at her lower lip. 

…

  This had been a measured risk, given that Beth was convinced if she even  _ touched _ Daryl he might run away. It continued to show her that she didn’t  _ get _ him, not as well as she could. Because all the gentle touches and careful attention to her had meant something. Or, she figured it did, given how he’d reacted. There’s a low pang of concern, that this was just because she was a warm body and that was it -- but that wasn’t Daryl.

  And the strong arms that framed her were plenty of incentive to continue. They could discuss the why later, once she had a firmer grip on the situation. Right now she was adrift in little sounds, and the hand at her ribs that absolutely took her breath away. From the idle swipe of his thumb against her ribs, she got it.

  There’s a sound of disapproval as he withdrew his hand, and she didn’t much know why. She didn’t  _ do _ this. Or, she didn’t, before. The prison was the closest she’d gotten to anything, and that... That didn’t matter. She had Daryl, here, now, warm and against her, and she was  _ thankful _ . Her hand settled on his arm, a low appreciative sound formed from her, and her lips long since parted. It’s not even a peck, or a test, it’s just a  _ kiss.  _ It’s messy and hot and she can feel scruff and stubble, and all she wanted was more.

  More being  _ whatever _ he had, because she trusted him. There’s a very purposeful roll of her hips and another giggle, and she’s just... She’s having fun. That’s what this is. Her lips parted from his, to snatch idle kisses against his throat. Her hands were lost against him, from his arms to his sides, and thumbing against his hips.

  Beth has long since been able to distinguish between a belt buckle and something else; this was something  _ else _ .

…

  He could have sworn there was a sound of disapproval has he pulled his hand away from her ribs—maybe he was just imagining things. He wasn’t sure how far he could push and the last thing he wanted to do was scare her off, or have her change her mind. They needed to talk, that much he knew—about how far he could push and what was wanted and what wasn’t. For now it was all guesswork, with each move he’d listen to sounds of approval and then continue with what he was doing.  

 

  It was reckless doing this in the common room of the main house, but he wasn’t thinking about that. Everyone was busy, it was the middle of the day and they all had jobs to do. Most people didn’t hang out or take breaks in the house, the house was usually occupied at night time and first thing in the morning, not in the middle of the day. 

 

  A quiet moan escaped his lips as he felt her hips rolling against his, he rolled his hips back against hers—already hard at this point. A few moments later two he slowly pulled away from the kiss so that he could catch his breath, panting softly as his gaze flickered over her face noticing the pink coloring in her cheeks and a small smile tugged on his lips. He wanted to remember all of this, from the noises she was making to the smile on her face. It was totally cliche but he couldn’t give a fuck. 

 

  His breath hitched in his throat at the feeling of her lips against his neck, she was literally going to drive him insane. Goosebumps formed on his skin underneath her touch, he dipped his head down to kiss her neck, hot—sloppy kisses against her porcelain covered flesh. His teeth idly nipping at her skin but not hard enough to leave a mark as he wasn’t ready to explain this to anyone else. 

 

  “Beth–” He breathed out, his hot breath against her earlobe as he nipped gently on the outer shell of her ear.

…

  It’s an exchange of touches, and soft kisses, and Beth is all too happy to meet him at each shift. She hadn’t gone further than  _ this _ , but in the stuffy confines of a sleeping bag and with Daryl above her, she just got lost in it. Her hand skimmed beneath his shirt, across his lower back and she keened into the kisses at her throat.

  It isn’t as shy as he normally was, and maybe that was her fault. She had pushed, and pushed, and now there was a break. She could hear her own heartbeat in her, and the ruffle of the fabric, and it’s just so much more than she expected.

  Beth felt like her eyes may roll out of her head when he spoke against her ear, all teeth and hot breath. She giggled softly, a sound she kept for moments like this. She didn’t giggle as much nowadays, and she didn’t do vulnerable, but both cropped up now. With the pressure and heat, she felt ready to pop.

  “Mh Daryl?”

  “ -- said there was a set a’keys to a nearby agriculture stock.” The voice is light with all the big sister bossiness Beth was familiar with.

  “My mom tried to set up a trade route with them, but they went quiet.”

  “Ah...”

  There’s a thud of heels against hardwood by the front door. They had stopped though, and she recognized one of the voices. Beth peeked out the side of the sleeping bag, eyes painfully wide. She was met with Maggie, Glenn and Spencer -- from what she could tell. There could be more, secreted behind the door. Her face was all hot, and there was a very clear  _ second _ person with her.

  “Hey!”

  “Hey.” Maggie looked torn between laughter and anger, and confused about which to feel. There’s a pause between the sisters, where Beth defiantly matched Maggie’s gaze. The older sister squared her jaw and shoulders, to shift her attention back to Glenn and Spencer. “So the keys were in this house -- where?”

  “Right, uh.”

  Spencer pointed, and the trio were off down the hallway, towards the study. Beth remained looped around Daryl, head swimming. She sneaked another kiss against his throat, lips curled into a smirk.

…

  A content smirk tugged on his lips as he heard the giggle that left her lips, he couldn’t remember the last time he had heard that noise from her and it was—nice. He wanted to hear it over and over again and he took mental notes of what would elicit that sound out of her. 

  A breathy sigh left his lips as his face was buried against her neck, leaving soft kisses as his hips rolled against hers once more,  _ once again _ distracted by Beth he hadn’t heard the people approaching and he had only heard them when it was _ too late _ . 

  There was a few steps of footsteps and he quickly shifted off of her and next to her side instead his face red hot from embarrassment and his first thought was to bolt but he had a throbbing erection between his legs that reminded him that he couldn’t do that. 

  His gaze shifted from Maggie and then to Glenn–he didn’t even look at Spencer because he couldn’t care less what he thought. Daryl was sure that he’d be getting an earful from Maggie later, he couldn’t believe this was happening. They had been so careless, this was a  _ common area.  _ He did his best to read Maggie’s expression, it was a mix between anger and amusement and he was pretty sure that he was a dead man walking. 

  Once the footsteps disappeared down the hallway he placed his hands over his cherry red face letting out a sigh.

   “ _ Fuck _ –” He breathed out,.

 

…

  Despite how worried Beth should be, she wasn’t. There’s nothing but giggles from her, her hands framed against her face as she tried not to laugh too loudly. It wasn’t the first time Maggie had stumbled upon her and a boy, except this was all kinds of different. Before, it’d been a passing peck or tucked away behind the barn.

  This was Beth and Daryl, holed up in the Grimes’ home, in a relatively communal area. So maybe Beth had screwed up, but she hadn’t known. She’d mostly wanted to challenge him, to get an idea of what had happened the day before. And she had... Just, not how she expected to.

  Daryl had rolled off and away from her, and she got it. This wasn’t the best place for anything, whatever  _ anything _ may be. She pursed her lips and tugged at the sleeping bag, to curl up on the expanse of the foldout. She tucked her hands under her cheek, and looked over Daryl.

  “S’shame we don’t have a proper place.” Her eyes slid shut, as she wriggled her shoulders further up.

…

  His hands were covering his face and he parted his fingers slightly so he could peek through to look at her. He couldn’t help but wonder how she was so composed, he was internally freaking out and she was all smiles and giggles while he was red faced and ready to just yank the sleeping bag over his head and hide. 

  “Yeah–it is.” It would be nice to have a place that the two of them could go to do this. To not have to worry about someone busting in. This whole time in Alexandria he had insisted he hadn’t needed his own house, because that meant settling and Daryl Dixon never settled anywhere. He would go from place to place taking turns between Rick’s house and Aaron’s house as to where he would rest his head. 

   He then rolled over on his side to face her, his eyes narrowing as he looked at her. “What’s so funny? You’re sister’s gonna kill me–you think that’s funny?” He asked but he couldn’t be mad at her, he had no legit reason to be mad and she looked adorable all cuddled up right there next to him and he was almost tempted to snatch her up and kiss her again. 

  No—there were people here and he was sure those people looked at him like he was taking advantage of Beth. He didn’t want  _ Beth _ thinking that because it couldn’t be any further from the truth. He shifted slightly, moving underneath the sleeping bag so his hand could rest on her side, fingertips gently caressing up and down her side. 

 

…

  “Yep.” Beth stuck her tongue out at him, nose wrinkled to match. She didn’t mean it, but it was amusing how incredibly upset  _ he  _ was. More because they hadn’t been doing anything really -- except it was something. Beth’s stomach twinged as she thought back over the pressure and the touches, and how warm he had been.

  The hand on her side isn’t a surprise. He had touched her enough times that she was used to his warmth and the rough texture. It was different though, given how the tone of their interactions had changed. She wanted to sneak forward and peck him, or resume where they’d been, but she felt like he may push her away.

  Also, this was Rick’s house, and it wasn’t exactly polite to hook up in the house of the man you babysat for. Seemed like a breach of trust, and not exactly wise. She worked her lips side to side before she returned her gaze to Daryl’s. “I mean, it’s just funny ‘cause I’m nineteen. What’s Maggie gonna say? She was doin’ way more when she was my age.”

  And Beth grinned, lip caught between her teeth. “You tellin’ me you never got caught kissin’ girls by Merle?” There’s a soft hum as his hand ran across her, enough to ground her in this. She heard the racket of Maggie and the others in the study, in search of a key. She thought to go help them find it, but it wouldn’t be much of a help. The room was so small, and there was already three people in there.

 

…

  “Oh, gross.”

  Beth couldn’t imagine how awkward it would be to have  _ Merle _ of all people pop in when you were with someone. He had been the opposite of Daryl, all abrasive and cocky, and eager to fight. He was everything Daryl had tried to be on the farm, and fallen short of. The man cared too much; that was the problem.

  The hand on her side dipped to her stomach, and all her muscles tensed in response. She looked curious, as if to ask why he was touching her. But it’s more... Not that she minded. More that she wanted to understand, to hear him say a small piece of what he felt. She broke her lips apart with the swipe of her tongue, another soft laugh from her.

  It was probably because of her stitches, she thought dimly. She reached up to snatch at the front of his shirt. She could hear the shuffle of feet, and voices. She can’t make out any of the words, not until Maggie, Glenn and Spencer took to the kitchen. They had a few sets between them, which all landed on the counter with a clatter.

  “You right?” Beth shot a look over her shoulder, to Maggie. Her sister didn’t look mad, or any particular  _ way _ . She shrugged in response, her attention flicked between the pair. Beth rolled her eyes to refocus on Daryl.

  This was a  _ mess _ .

…

  He thought about tugging his hand away as she looked a bit curious, she was probably wondering why he was touching her in the first place. Honestly he didn’t have a reason, he just wanted to touch her and his hand wound up on her side and stomach of all places. He would have reached for her hand but both were tucked underneath her head and she looked too comfortable to move. 

  His gaze shifted up as he looked at her curiously when she grabbed the front of his shirt, his body tensing slightly but then he heard the others returning into the living space and kitchen. While Maggie might not have been mad he knew that she was  _ something _ , she wasn’t happy and that much he knew. 

  "I should probably go.” He gently squeezed her side. “Gotta catch up with Rick, haven’t seen him since I’ve been back and–” It was a shit excuse but at least he didn’t just bolt like he normally did. At least he was telling her his plans as he wanted her to know that this had nothing to do with her and this was all him. 

  “I’ll see ya later.” He murmured, while part of him wanted to take the easy way out and crash on Aaron’s couch tonight he knew that he couldn’t do that, it wouldn’t have been fair to Beth. He’d return here tonight, though he could never look at this pull out couch the same way again.

…

  It was no surprise that Daryl wanted  _ out _ . Beth had no interest in  _ forcing _ him to stay either, given that Maggie seemed hellbent to make her presence known. Or maybe that was a guilty mind at work, where it seemed all the worse from her perspective. Beth would remain here for a time, given that she had today off.

  There wasn’t any point in a nap, not with the sound, or the energy that thrummed through her. Even the light squeeze to her side was enough to send her blood through her veins all the quicker, her cheeks a dull red out of excitement. She could scoot off to help Olivia, or opt for some work on the fence.

  Or Beth had a better idea. It’d take some explanation, and maybe a favor, but she could swing it. Maggie had no right to be mad at her, anyhow. Beth wriggled closer to peck him on the cheek, quick and light. “ _ Later _ .” And the tone was threatening enough. She didn’t want to have to chase him down, not after they’d crashed together and formed into a pile of gentle kisses and rough touches.

…

  She had every right to say that, so many times he had said  _ ‘later’ _ and later never came—or it came a week later. Beth had been patient with him, he had no idea how she could put up with the way his moods shifted or the way he took off but each time she had. He needed to be careful though, what if all it took was one more push and he pushed her away for good? 

  “I’ll be back for supper.”He told her, giving her a  _ time _ not just a  _ later _ . He hoped that was a step in the right direction and she would take that as a sign that he was actually trying, that he wasn’t just brushing her off. 

  “If ‘m not back–you know who to blame.”He told her, his voice lowered as he shifted his gaze to look at Maggie, a small grin on his lips before he moved to get out of bed and headed to the front door moving to tug it open. It felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, he felt  _ happy _ and he wanted to feel this way all the time. He offered Beth one more nod before slipping out the front door and off to go find Rick. 


	16. games.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took Forever to edit, and I'm still not quite happy with it. Here's the current cut -- subject to change a little, as I bite through this 11k monster of a chapter.

  It wasn’t _easy,_ but nothing worth doing was easy. As Beth had assured Maggie and Glenn, and all those _listening_ , she and Daryl just needed some time to talk. They weren’t off necking. It was private time, to resolve their separation. Couldn’t people see how they needed that?

  Maggie and Glenn had understood. Or they pretended to understand, as they smiled and nodded between themselves. Maybe it was believable, and that Beth couldn’t ever like Daryl as anything more than a friend. Or, that Daryl would never like beth.

  She didn’t know which assumption was worse. She had gotten their permission all the same, and slid out the door of the Greene home.

  Beth snorted at the concept of _permission_ , because she could do whatever she damn well pleased.

  It was a sign of respect, and of maturity, but also she wanted to keep them informed. In this world it was better to be clear on where you were, rather than disappear off the radar. The last thing she wanted to do was stress Maggie out.

  Now, stress about what she was doing?

  That was on Maggie.

  While Daryl was up in the guard tower, she had organized the surprise. It was small, and _dumb_ , but it was the most she could do. All the details were there, the blanket, some candles, snacks, all laid out and modest, but _there_. She didn’t know why it was so important to her, but it probably had something to do with the months she’d wasted waiting.

  Beth was sick of watching him with wide eyes and a sad smile. Either this was a good thing, or she was wrong. The latter was enough to sucker punch her in the stomach, but she was pretty confident her suspicions weren’t wrong.

  _All I want is some quiet time with my best friend,_ she repeated to herself. Because she realized, that was what Daryl _was_. He knew more about her than anyone else cared to know, and she’d do just about anything for him. And that’s why when Glenn went to swap shifts, she’d sat on the porch and waited. The sun was setting, the stars were slowly peeking out from the reds and oranges, and then blue took over.

  And God she was tired before, she was a wreck now. But she sat, head in her hands, watching side to side, waiting. He’d have to come back eventually, and she really hoped he wouldn’t be _tricky_ about it. After half an hour, once the sky had gone black, she saw light. She perked immediately at the figure down a ways, illuminated by a lone cigarette. She drew her bottom lip between her teeth and leaped up.

  "I was gettin’ worried!" Beth joked, but she wasn’t joking. She thought he’d slipped out on another run, or left, or – he was here. She was here. She hadn’t lost him. Beth approached, all mischief and smiling wide. She didn’t even care he’d taken his time. He probably had a reason. He was here, she was here, and she had control. She’d make sure of it. "Before you get grumbling about how you’re tired, or hungry, or whatever else, I gotta… There’s something I gotta show you." Her tone was serious, imploring. "S’urgent. Really."

  Beth was always quite sure she would go to Heaven, but she was beginning to think that was a pretty lie she told herself at church each week.

...

       Once he got closer he recognized the blonde hair and realized that it was Beth waiting for him and he felt his stomach churn slightly, so much for avoiding her. Maybe he could come up with an excuse, say he was tired and just wanted to hit the hay because he had an early day tomorrow–yeah that could work. It wasn’t exactly a lie either because he _was_ tired and he _did_ wake up early every morning to do fence checks and make sure that shift changes happened without a hitch.

     His eyes lingered over her for a moment as he watched her leap up from the porch, he stopped at the bottom of the steps as he was smoking and didn’t want to bring it into the house because of Judith. He took another long drag from his cigarette, blowing out smoke as he looked up at her curiously, his brows furrowing slightly as she said that she was worried. “Just did a quick perimeter check.” He told her but realized her tone was light and that she probably wasn’t  _really_ worried.    

    His mouth fell open slightly as he was ready to protest, come up with an excuse but clearly she had already thought this through, she knew him better than he wanted to admit. He let out a quiet sigh instead as he took another drag, his gaze scanning over her features for a moment as he realized she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Then he realized that maybe it was something urgent, “Alright, what is it – everythin’ alright?” He asked her curiously as he plucked the cigarette from his mouth moving to put it out on the pavement below him and sticking it back in the pack so he’d have it for later.     

    He couldn’t help but feel slightly worried as he looked over her features and he could tell that she was serious about whatever this was, had something happened when he was on duty? Was someone sick? Missing? All the different scenarios were running through his head and he shifted slightly as he waited for her, “Where we goin’?” He asked her curiously as surely whatever she wanted to show him wasn’t in the house, or maybe it was? All he knew was the suspense was killing him and he was tired and all he wanted right now was to pull his sleeping bag over himself and get some peace and quiet for a change.

...

  With all the time Beth had, had between forming this plan, and Daryl showing up, she’d had time to think. She hadn’t meant to stress him out, but it seemed like she had – okay. She could deal with that. Even in the low light, she was watching his expression, trying to read whatever it was behind his eyes. It wasn’t easy, but he didn’t seem mad. He seemed _okay_ with her. Good. That was workable. "S’fine, nothin’ terrible. Just, important." Her head dipped sideways, towards the unused house.

  "C’mon."

  And she waved a hand for him to follow her, and she stepped towards it. Beth trusted him to follow her, because she would follow him. It was mutual, give and take. As for the building, it was the same as their _main_ home, but no one stayed there. They used the bathroom, but people hadn’t settled yet. There was some spreading, and Carol would stay with Tobin, occasionally, but with how quickly things fell apart, they liked to stay close. Beth checked over her shoulder, to check he was following her.

  "It’s a surprise, and I didn’t want to _blindfold_ you, ‘cause that seemed a little much – " Once up the stairs, she gestured for him to stay still. Very gently, she cracked the door open, just _enough_. She crept around behind him, her hands very carefully set over his eyes. Her bangles caught in his hair, and her fingers ghosted over his brow, but it was good enough. "Just, step forward, _okay_. Trust me." Unwittingly, she grinned, cheek against his shoulder, on her tiptoes. She tried her best to nudge the door open with her boot, but he kind of walked into it, and she laughed again, and it was a mess.

  "Sorry, I’m so sorry, you okay?"

  She was screwing this _up._ The door opened properly because of the collision at least, and on the floor in the middle of the barren lounge was a spare mattress, a massive bundle of blankets, quilts and sheets, pillows, and some snacks. Some jam, some old, _old_ soda, and a very tiny flash. Her hands dropped to his shoulders, and she peeked around him, smiling to herself.

  "I thought you could use some time to alone."

...

    Daryl eyed her curiously, so it wasn’t something urgent at all and she had just fibbed to him. His eyes narrowed slightly at her but he decided to entertain her. He let out a sigh as he he watched her walking to the second house–a house that they barely used but eventually he figured some of them would move into it, sooner or later. He wasn’t sure about this, was it too late to tell her that he’d see whatever it was tomorrow? Probably.

   He took a few steps forward, walking up the steps of the porch and following closely behind her, his gaze shifting around the entranceway of the house curiously. What could she want to show him here? He trusted her, he’d even trust her to blindfold him but he was glad that she hadn’t done that. He walked up the steps of the staircase, his feet heavy and his body ached as he finally made it to the top of the steps.

   He remained still like she had asked, his body tensing slightly out of sheer nervousness as he felt her hands moving to cover up his eyes, he slowly closed them, chewing on the inside of his cheek slightly. He took a step forward carefully, still a bit wary about what was going on though he knew she wouldn’t lead him astray–not on purpose anyway. His face flushed slightly as he felt her fingertips brush gently across his face and her cheek pressed against his back. He was glad it was dark and she wasn’t facing him because his cheeks dusted a light shade of pink.

    He stepped forward but stepped into the door instead and groaned quietly, “So much for trustin’ ya.” He murmured though his lips twitched into a small smile as the whole thing was awkward but it still made him smile, something he didn’t do very often–only in front of the blonde really. “’M fine.” He murmured softly, he was used to getting banged up on runs so this was really nothing.

   There was hesitation now, he cautiously took another step forward feeling that it was now clear and his arms reached out in front of him to make sure there wasn’t another wall or a door in his way as he took a few more steps until they were completely in the room. Once she dropped her hands his eyes slowly opened and he blinked slightly adjusting to being able to see now as he looked around the room seeing the spread she had set up for him–or for _them_. He really wasn’t sure.

   “You did all this for me?” He asked her quietly, he wasn’t used to people doing things for him–he was used to taking care of others, not the other way around. It was nice, and he appreciated it and he hoped he’d be able to somehow show that to her.

...

  It worked. At least Beth felt like it worked. She had expected Daryl to shrug her off, dismiss her as being childish, but it was like his gesture at the funeral home. He’d paid careful attention to that breakfast, and she thought, if he did that for her… Why not do it for him? Beth stepped in, past him, fingers tucking her loose locks behind her ears. It had been an idea that dawned on her, from how tense he was all the time, from how he begrudged the company of others sometimes. It wasn’t that he disliked anyone, he just needed his space. He was the sort to hang by the sides, watch inward, protect, but _observe_.

  While Beth felt awful about the door, about banging him up in her attempt at a surprise, she felt his expression shift. How it was, even now, surveying her peace offering.

  "Tah-da. Sorry again, about the door. Thing was sticky." Beth rolled her weight onto the balls of her feet, gesturing to the pile of blankets. "It’s not much but, earlier, I was mad. I was thinking, and I was _mad._ " She looked back to him, her eyes softer. She sunk down to her knees by the mattress, taking up the packet of matches. She’d not thought it safe to light them beforehand, and given how long he’d taken to come back from guard duty, that was for the best. There was half a dozen, none matching.

  "But, it wasn’t at _you_. I get why you ran, I do. You’re…" Beth vented air through her nose, her hands bunched on against her jeans. She stayed quiet, looking over the dim light cast by her one lit candle. "I’m not gonna tell you how you are. Let’s just say, how _I_ see it, you do a lot for our family – for all of us. You go out on runs, and you push, and push. I figured, wouldn’t hurt for you to get a little time, properly. A little bit of _privacy_. We’re allowed that, y’know. People can have that here." Her voice was haunted by the rush of Maggie, and the exit of Daryl. That could have ruined everything, and she didn’t even know what everything was.

  "And, before you worry too much, this is your space. I don’t even have t’stay, but I’d like to. If you don’t mind the _company_." Beth remained kneeling, the candles lit. It was a simple gesture, with more words than she’d meant to give, but it was a start. It was a kinder introduction to intimacy that pawing at his shoulder between guard shifts. She hoped she’d said everything, but she knew she hadn’t even scratched the surface. It was a step in the right direction at least. She just sat, and stared, and felt like her guts had been dragged out across the floor and she was dying.

  Because she pretty much _had_. She’d opened up, like she hadn’t in a long while. No one seemed to notice how Grady had touched her, aside from the scars on her forehead and cheek, the time she had lost. There was more, so much more, but she wasn’t bringing that into here, into the now. They could enjoy this time together and pretend things were good. Like they had before. Just for a little bit. That’s all she wanted.

...

    It had been too long since he had his own space, of course when he was on the road with Beth that was different–the two were practically living on top of each other and at first he had to admit he wasn’t too thrilled with it. The two hadn’t been especially close before the fall of the prison, they’d talk about important things or things that needed to get done but never anything too personal. After a few weeks together he had actually grown use to her company, he even opened up to her about what he was before the world fell to shit. He got to know more about her, what her hopes were and even some of her faith had rubbed off on him.

    “Don’t worry ‘bout it.”He said as he knew the whole door thing was an accident and she wasn’t intentionally trying to hurt him, she was probably a whole head shorter than him and she couldn’t see where they were going when she was standing behind him and honestly it had almost made him laugh, something he hadn’t done in a long time.

     His eyes lingered over her as he watched her get on her knees listening how she spoke about how she was angry, and he couldn’t help but figure it was at him. He knew what he had done earlier was pretty childish but he couldn’t help himself, he was fight or flight and earlier the only thing he could think of was _flight_.

     He chewed on his lower lip gently as she clarified that she wasn’t angry at him, even though she really had every right to be. Sometimes he forgot that Beth understood him, that Beth understood him more than anyone else there. He shifted his gaze from her to look at the lone lit candle, it all felt too familiar–it felt like he was back at the funeral home with her sitting across from her eating pigsfeet in the candlelight. That night when she confronted him about what changed his mind and that really opened up a can of worms because it made him confront the feelings that he was trying so hard to push away.

    He had a battle within himself, between his head and his heart on whether or not she should stay. He wanted her to, boy did he want her to. At the same time he couldn’t help but feel anxious with her there, the two of them alone–just like at the funeral home when he was overwhelmed with feelings for her and he didn’t know what to do about that. His heart won the battle though.

    “Nah you can stay.” He shrugged, like it was no big deal. But it was. “It’d be a shame that ya set all this up and can’t enjoy it too.”

...

  Beth honestly didn’t know what to expect from him. She had her guess in mind, that he wouldn’t have much to say, so at least she could rely on that. It was a sober kind of knowledge, like knowing someone would catch you if you fall. She could trust him to listen, to pay attention to her, and to offer back his view. She could rely on his honesty, too, so when Daryl said she could stay, she knew he had meant it. She hoped that he meant it, anyway.

  "Well thank you Daryl. I won’t be too annoyin’, I promise. You like it, right?" The blankets had been pilfered from every closet that wasn’t in use, and the pillows were from spare bedrooms. She would return it all tomorrow, but for tonight, she was greedy. She was being greedy because Daryl never would be. He’d give, and never ask for things back. But he deserved things back, Beth decided. She looked over her handiwork, lips still split into a wide smile, forehead tilted back, proud of it. It almost reminded her of when she used to make forts for herself and Shawn, except Shawn was her brother, and Daryl was definitely not blood.

  It was quite different, but she wasn’t afraid. She was afraid of screwing around in halfhearted feelings, of _almosts_ , and she was afraid of when he’d go out on runs, and she was afraid of pushing him too far, but she wasn’t afraid of _this_. "Come sit!" Beth insisted, smacking her hands on the blanket. She’d kicked off her boots, diving into the too-plush blankets and wriggling until she was comfortable. She missed the foldout bed, if only for how much closer they’d been.

  Maybe this could be a sequel, a part two. Or they could just straight pass out, not say much, not do much. It was all very much up in the air, but that was life. She was sprawled on half of the blankets and such, careful to keep them away from the candles. She’d left a decent perimeter. Things felt… God, things felt good. Things felt almost normal. That was the only almost she would accept, she decided. Her hands went to her shirt, ensuring it’d stayed firmly down despite her enjoying the expanse of blankets.

  "Wish we had our own place like this – could do this whenever we want." She smiled, eyes closed, sprawled.

...

      He loved it, he wished it was something that they could keep here–a nice little quiet place that either or _both_ of them could go to when they just wanted to get away from everyone and everything. He nodded slightly when she asked if he liked it, “I do–’s nice.”He told her and he appreciated it, he appreciated that she took the time to set this up for him, or for them. He wouldn’t have to worry about someone barging in and interrupting whatever it is that would happen, which was probably nothing. Just talking, maybe the brush of hands but nothing more.

    He moved to take off his boots, glad he had more grace taking them off then putting them on as he moved to kick them off with ease. He then walked over to the massive pile of blankets and moved to carefully sit down beside her, he let out a content sigh as he laid back letting his muscles relax slightly. This felt nice, this felt real damn nice and he was almost sure that he was dreaming again. He shifted slightly getting more comfortable but there was still a bit of distance between the two of them but he was too chicken to close the gap or make any more movement.

    He turned his head slightly, letting his eyes linger on her for a moment since her own were closed, she wouldn’t be able to see him indulging in her. Her features lit up nicely by the candles lit in the distance and he felt a lump in his throat before he forced himself to look away. He was looking at her the same way that he was back in the funeral home and he knew that he was. She was perfect, everything about her was so _damn_ perfect that it almost hurt to look at her. Finally his gaze shifted up to the ceiling, trying to think about tomorrow instead of what was going on in the now. Thinking about how he wanted to go hunting and find some fresh meat, maybe something like a deer so he could feed a few families. Anything that would get him thinking about anything but _her_.

     “Yeah–that’d be nice, not havin’ to listen to Abraham snorin’ anymore.” He said with a small smile tugging on his lips as he moved to tuck his arm behind his head as he let out a quiet yawn. Of course he wouldn’t say what was really on his mind, that it would be nice to have a place like this so he could fall asleep and wake up next to her every day–no, he wasn’t that bold.      

...

  The feeling returned, where she was afraid to fall asleep. The dreams she had mentioned weren’t the only things she got – she had the nightmares, where she was back in Grady, or that she was gone. It made her lose her breath, and wake up in a sweat, and a few dumb tears would land on her pillow, and she was _glad_ she kept it all under the surface. She didn’t want people treating her any more gently than they already did, given her injuries, and her return. "That’s some high praise. _Nice_." Beth wasn’t kidding. She didn’t know if he used that word often. She couldn’t recall a time he had.

  Beth could hear him step closer, and take off his boots, then impact. She remained still, eyes closed, lids heavy and her body relaxed. She trusted him enough to mind her space, and she knew she could remain like this. She let one hand settle in her hair, fingers scrunching at the bunches of it, letting the silence of the house take to them. She could deal with this. The flickering of light around them, the quiet, and the smell of ash from his cigarette, and from the candles, and maybe from her, too. She just enjoyed it.

  "Abraham asked me to sing the other day." Beth said this in an absent sort of way, like she was telling him about a cloud she had seen that was particularly neat. She let her eyes slid open, and she turned to look at him, eyebrow raised. She was smiling, a little, happy to hear him yawn and settle. She felt downright proud. Not to mention that he wished for the same thing, too. They could have this. If he asked her, she’d do this every night. Might make people talk, but they’d always talk. A bunch of rumours had gone around about her and Jimmy, teenage gossip, he said, she said. She’d cop it for Daryl. So long as they didn’t have unkind things to say about him; they could call her whatever they wanted. She’d wear it.

  "Seems I have a reputation – I didn’t, though. Didn’t feel right though. It’s kinda like… Like poppin’ out a song ‘cause someone stuck a coin in me." Beth turned, one arm curling around a pillow, her other hand under her cheek. "S’only for people I care about, and when they care about me, y’know. I don’t do it to show off or nothin’." Beth rolled a shoulder, fingers prodding at the embroidered surface. "Mmhnot sure what I’m even _talkin’_ about now. But you know, right?" Beth let out a laugh, digging her face into her pillow.

  "God, I sound like an idiot sometimes, huh." This was chewed out between the pillow her face was buried in, her eye peeking out just enough to see him.

...

    He always wanted to ask her what happened at Grady, but he never got the nerve to. Obviously he saw the scars on her face and knew someone had treated her badly and that angered him, but he wanted to know everything, he wanted to know what really went on in that hospital. He never got the nerve though, figured she’d open up to him or someone when she was ready, and who knows–maybe she’d never be ready and that would be okay too. He eyed her for a moment, unsure if she was serious or not but he could tell by looking at her that she was, he was glad that she had believed him.

     His brows furrowed slightly at that, where the hell did Abraham come off asking her to sing? Sure Beth used to sing all the time at the prison, sing around the fire–sing to Judith, he had grown so used to hearing her voice. He used to play it off like it annoyed him, but he’d always listen–he’d always be off to the side away from the group just listening to her sing. Even after the fall of the prison he remembered _asking_ her to sing, wanting to hear the sound of her voice as it soothed him. He even remembered the song she sang, not the entire thing but just bits and pieces of it that gave him goosebumps.

     “You sang when I asked ya to–” He said, now he couldn’t help but feel a bit bad that he made her feel like a jukebox or something. He loved hearing her sing, he was always too damn shy to ask her–he always hoped someone else would ask and he’d get to hear it. Or maybe he’d get to hear her sing a lullaby to Judith, there was something about her voice that calmed him. A small smile tugged on his lips, “Nah I get what you’re sayin’.”He murmured, the sleep evident in his voice as he had let himself get comfortable but he didn’t want to go to sleep–he wanted to lay there and talk to her about nothing–about _everything_.

  He rolled over to lay on his side now, his back aching and it felt slightly better to lay on his side, he was facing her now–watching as she buried her face in her pillow, a small smile tugging on his lips. “Stop it, ya don’t sound like an idiot.” He said quietly, he didn’t want her to ever feel stupid because she was smart, she was so damn smart.

...

  "I sang for you ‘cause I wanted to, Daryl. Like I said."

  Beth kept her face buried in the pillow a while longer, thankful for the impressed distance it put between them. It was weird, being so quiet and soft and comfortable with Daryl. He was relaxing, too, and it kept reminding her of how he was before, at the prison. Then how he was in their little funeral home retreat. Everything always circled back to that, she noticed. Didn’t matter that they were months away from it, they were different people now, it always came back to that moment; that _oh_.

  The insistence that she didn’t sound like an idiot helped. She rolled her lips between her teeth before popping out of her little cocoon. She remained propped up on her elbows, thoughtful. Though she was now on her stomach, and he was on his side, she wondered. She wondered what he thought about her, and what he saw when he looked at her. She wondered if he minded that her hair was a mess, or that her eyes were dark from the lack of sleep, or that she was sweaty from the humidity. She wondered, because none of these things bothered her about him.

  "There’s food, too. Whether you wanna have that for breakfast or now, it’s up to you. But!"

  Beth sat up, fishing up flask between her index finger and thumb. She smacked it down between them, eyebrow raised emphatically. "I may have secured a little scotch. This was tucked under this mattress when I grabbed it from a spare room. Smelled like scotch, but I dunno, so – " Beth jutted her chin at it. "You don’t have t’have it now, either, I’m not tryin’ to get you lit,  but – you looked out for me, and, I thought – _tch_." Beth resumed her flop into the pillow, mad at him, mad at _herself_. There was a muffled giggle into the pillow, her face obscured.

  "I _am_ soundin’ like an idiot, thank you very much. All the comfy pillows and blankets, it’s makin’ my brain go to mush." She yawned loudly, now rolled back onto her side. Or maybe it was her painful need to impress Daryl with her ability to provide. That was the more likely candidate. She didn’t want to sleep, she didn’t want the night to go by, she wanted to stay here forever. But the world wasn’t that kind, and she knew with their mounting yawns, they’d be out soon. Too soon.

...

       His cheeks dusted a light shade of pink at her words, she _wanted_ to sing for him. He was half tempted to ask her to sing but decided against it, he figured it would only make his feelings stronger as he was really drawn to her voice, there was just something about it. He reminded himself that earlier when he was on watch that he was going to try to avoid her, _look how well that worked_. Instead of avoiding her here he was laying in a pile of blankets and pillows and only a foot away from her–yearning to close the gap between them and scoot closer but he didn’t dare move.

     He slowly opened his eyes, peeking down at her and seeing that she was finally coming out of her hiding spot and another hint of a smile tugged at his lips as his gaze shifted elsewhere. “’M'not hungry, we can eat that for breakfast–” He began to say, “Or I can if you’re not staying–” The words awkwardly stumbling out of his mouth as he had no idea if she was going to stay here all night and he had just assumed, but maybe she was planning on leaving, who really knew? Only she knew.

   The scotch though, that was something he’d take now–maybe it would help the awkward tension that he was giving off. He moved to pick up the bottle, eyeing the label and nodded. “Mhm, ain’t half bad either.”He said as it wasn’t the cheap stuff but it wasn’t exactly the expensive stuff either. He unscrewed the cap and moved to take a long swig of it, the one thing he loved about scotch was it went down pretty smooth. He then offered her the bottle, wondering if she wanted some or if he’d be drinking alone–he figured the alcohol would help him sleep as well.

    Her yawn had only caused him to yawn once more, “Stop it, you’re not.”He murmured, he was ready to fight her on this because he could never see her ever saying anything stupid. She was far too wise for that, wise beyond her years. Even though maybe not everyone saw that, he sure did–he watched everyday how much she was growing and learning, she picked up on things rather quickly and it only took her a couple days to learn his crossbow when he had taught her.

...

 

  They kept missing each other’s eye, like it was practiced. She’d smile at him, and he’d look away. Then vice versa. Beth smiled as _he_ stumbled. Seemed that they swapped turns stumbling, too. She didn’t mind though. She liked when he spoke, even if it was accidental, or shy. At least he was speaking to her, and being himself. She liked these moments better, she realized. Made him seem more like a human, rather than some ancient hunter or – _something_. An old soul, wandering the woods. That’s what he seemed like sometimes, to her.

  "We can have the food tomorrow then." Beth accepted the bottle with gentle hands, one at the neck, the other at the bottom. She worried about spilling any of what she drank, or getting it into her clothes. When he insisted she wasn’t stupid, her chest hurt. Because her soft allusions to her self-esteem issues, however faint, were enough to make him rile up and defend her. Even from herself. "I can be stupid sometimes."

  And with that she leaned forward to press a very brief kiss to his cheek. Before the scotch was in her, before either of them could blame that. It was light, and quick, and offhand, like she’d done it a hundred times over. But she hadn’t. She couldn’t remember ever doing that, not with Daryl. But it was brief, and sweet, and she was tilting back a bit of the scotch to disguise the burn on her face and lips.

  Daryl didn’t smile often, and she liked that. It was like getting a prize for solving a puzzle. Maybe that wasn’t a fair way to think about it, given he was a person and all, but it made her feel good. Made her feel like she’d done or said just the right thing, and that he’d allow her the gesture as a reward. He was handsome, she knew that. Her thoughts wouldn’t go down that trail, not now, not while they were alone and in the candlelight.

  "Hey – you have a nice smile." That much she could say. It wasn’t out of line, and it mattered, and Beth wanted him to know it. She wondered if anyone had told him that before. She hoped so, but kind words didn’t seem to come his way like they had for her. She was aware of that. The bottle remained loosely in her hand, offered forward to him as an exchange. Her heart was thrumming, and the alcohol burned her stomach, but it wouldn’t burn out the butterflies that lived there.

  Beth remained seated, legs curled up beneath her, shoulders slack.

...

      He was ready to argue with her, he was tired but he would fight her on this because she wasn’t stupid–she was far from it. He opened his mouth, ready to fight her but the next thing she did surprised him. He felt her lips on his cheek, though it was brief he still felt how soft her lips were–how nice it felt and how he wanted more. His cheeks burned a dark shade of red at the simple gesture, something so innocent causing him to blush like mad. He averted his gaze, ducking his head slightly to hide behind his hair.

     The worst part was he couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol, she had done that completely sober and all he could think about was wanting her to do that again – wanting to _really_ kiss her again and mentally cursing himself because he knew it was wrong. What would others think if they knew? Would they care? They'd fucked up already, earlier, but she'd left that where it belonged - the past. The group would think he was just some dirty old red neck in way over his head over a pretty young blonde.

      Maybe he was thinking too much, he had seen her kiss Rick’s cheek before, it was no big deal–just a quick kiss to the cheek to show some sort of appreciation, maybe he was overthinking all of this. He remembered seeing her kiss Zach before, the jealousy boiling in his gut and how he covered it up with sarcasm–calling them a damn romance novel.

    He grumbled something inaudible under his breath as she complimented his smile, what the hell was she trying to do, kill him? It was working. Never once had anyone told him he had a nice smile, he hardly did it but when he did he figured he looked pretty goofy and was probably all teeth. He needed more booze and he eyed the bottle that she offered and he moved to quickly take it, he took a long swig from it–it burned slightly as it went down his throat but he welcomed it.

    “Stop it.” He murmured, he didn’t take compliments well, he wasn’t used to them but a part of him wanted to hear them more, from her. At the same time he hated the reaction it caused in him, the dark blush that flamed across his cheeks. He looked down to the bottle, eyeing it for a moment before offering it back to her. He figured it was her turn to compliment her, his gaze shifting over her finally, the blush in his cheeks had gone down slightly but it was still there, a faint pink. “Like yours better.”He murmured, referring to her smile. When Beth smiled it lit up the whole room, she was like sunshine.

...

  Beth couldn’t remember what Daryl’s natural tone was anymore, because all he seemed to be doing lately was blushing. It was her fault, her making him uncomfortable, and being too polite to turn her down. Though she mustn’t be much better on the blushing front, from how _warm_ her face was. At least there was the forgiving light from the candles, and their hair to hide behind. It was all small steps, gentle touches, light pushes, and it was always her taking them. She thought of all the times she had pecked Rick or Glenn or any of the other men she knew, and how unlike that it was. It was much closer to the feeling she got with Zach, but more.

  It was why they'd come together earlier, why she'd kissed him beneath the sheets --

  This was Bad. Beth could hear her heart going too quickly, her brain lagging behind, and her body itching to do _something_. She knew it hadn’t anything to do with the alcohol. None of this did. She only smiled at his grumbles, at his denial. She could tell him a dozen things right now that she liked about him, but she didn’t know how he’d take it. Probably badly. Still, she let him snatch the bottle back with no qualms. It was a gift for him, and she acknowledged that he probably had a higher tolerance than her.

  Beth kept watching him as he took a long sip, and felt a bit bad that she’d made him feel uncomfortable. Except then he surprised her. Her lips parted, to ask what he meant, but then it clicked. Her mouth hung for a second, and then she scooted closer. "Okay – I like…" Beth hummed, head tilted, surveying him. "Your eyes." And she nodded, proud of herself. This was a game he hadn’t meant to start, but she liked it. She meant it, too. His eyes were bluer than blue, lighter than hers. Hers were a murky gray, like storm clouds. His eyes reminded her of a clear sky, of driving down the back roads to a nearby river, of a sweet afternoon in the fields. She wasn’t ashamed of the thoughts.

  This was quickly becoming Very Bad, and Beth didn’t much care. Of all the ways things could go wrong in this world, it was so damn nice to have something feel right. Even if it was only for now, curled up in these blankets, lying to herself. She’d take it, for the night. She snuck the bottle from his hand, to take another swig. The warmth ripped down her throat, and she faintly scoffed at the taste.

  "Better than the moonshine at least." She stuck her tongue out, lip sneered.

...

    He should have known better, that she would turn this into some sort of game to torture him. This was almost like the I have never game except this one was worse, this was a compliment game and it was evident that he didn’t take compliments well at all. But there she went, complimenting his eyes which he was never to fond of–he squinted far too much usually because of the sun or because he was annoyed, he almost always had a scowl on his face except for when he was around her.

     He noticed her scooting closer, slowly but surely the gap between them growing smaller and smaller and his eyes lingered over the small distance wondering if it was his turn to shift, he stretched his arm out slightly resting it in the space between both of them and figured that was enough– _for now_. He figured he should have probably laid back down on his back and stared at the ceiling instead but he couldn’t bring himself to turn away from her, he wanted to be able to steal glances at her with ease.

     He watched as she took the bottle back, a small grin tugging at his lips as he saw her nose wrinkle up slightly from the taste of the alcohol, “And a whole lot better than that peach schnapps woulda been.”He said with a nod. He then realized it was his turn, how was he supposed to even begin telling her all the things that he loved about her when he could barely admit these things to himself? He knew he couldn’t say the same thing, even if he did love her eyes–how he found himself getting lost in them, no he needed to come up with his own.

     He shifted for a moment, when he did he inched closer to her slightly hoping she hadn’t noticed as he tried to be slick about it while he pondered what to say. He couldn’t look at her this time, his gaze shifting to the bottle in her hands as he pretended to be extremely interested in the label as his tongue darted out to wet his lips as he tried to come up with something that didn’t sound completely lame. “I like when you sing–” He began to say, heart pounding in his chest.

     “Like your voice a lot.”

...

  Beth already knew that reveling in success was a sin in some way, but she’d done far worse. She’d committed all the worst sins, murder, theft, but that was the world now. So allowing herself the sin that came with pride, well she was gonna snatch that up and tuck it into her hair like a flower, show it off, be _damn_ proud. Because not only was she making Daryl feel good, she was letting him return the favor. She could spit kind words at him all night if he’d let her, but him being willing to reciprocate was – she didn’t have a word. She wanted a dictionary, or thesaurus, or something, because it was beyond her fuzzy brain.

  Seemed that he’d taken the bait, like he had with never have I ever. Even if she’d screwed up that game. They could play it again sometime, and she could do it right. She’d stick to the funny things, like never have I ever gone skinny dipping, or something harmless. Nothing real. Nothing accusatory. She didn’t acknowledge his shift, but she noticed it. You had to pay attention with Daryl. You’d miss a whole lot if you ignored how he shifted. But she kept the same dumb smile, enthusiastic and warm.

  "Mmh, sure. The moonshine was about ready t’rot my guts, that’s all I’m sayin’." Beth set a hand by her side, leaning her weight there. She kept the bottle in hand, waiting to see if he’d go with it. He seemed to be thinking an awful lot, and avoiding her eye, but that wasn’t new. She sat patiently, picking absently at the label with her nail. Her attention darted to his lips, and she couldn’t help the near-literal butterflies that were exploding out of her stomach. Mostly because of what he’d said. _Mostly._ It was sweet, and a surprise, but she took it on, not sure what to say about it. That wasn’t the game, to speak about the other’s answer. It was just to say your own thing back.

  "I liiiike…" Beth drew it out again, setting the bottle of scotch aside. She reached out to take his free hand, interlocking their fingers, like before. "Your hands. They’re strong, and warm, and keep you safe. Keep me safe, too." Beth continued to smile, her face humming with red, her eyes focused on his as best she could. He’d have to look at her eventually.

...

     Of course he had these thoughts about her before, he could easily come up with a hundred things he loved about her but it was a thousand times harder to say it out loud than it was to just say these things in his head. It wasn’t just things on the outside that he loved about her, it was the inside as well–just little things that she had done that most people wouldn’t have noticed. Like the way she wore her heart on her sleeve, or how she always made sure Judith had eaten before she had–just things that showed how good of a person she was.

    “I think I drank more than my fill that time.” He murmured, he remembered getting shit faced drunk, taking a piss in the corner and yelling at Beth. All over a stupid game like this one, but this time was different–he had only had two shots and he could handle this alcohol better than he could handle moonshine. He remembered being offended as he thought Beth thought of him just like everyone else did, that he was just some red neck that was probably in and out of jail. He remembered that stupid fight they had gotten in outside the shack, how he grabbed her–how rough he was with her and to this day he still felt guilt about it.

    He finally let himself look up to her watching as she thought of something to say, surely she’d run out within the next couple of turns because he couldn’t think of himself having more than a couple good qualities, even coming up with three for himself was a stretch. His gaze shifted to their hands, feeling hers in his once more and it felt _right_. He didn’t want to let go, his gaze shifting up from their hands to study her features before he quickly looked away once more, he had noticed that her cheeks were red as well, what did all this mean?

    He cleared his throat awkwardly after a moment, unsure of how to respond to that–he figured he should just go again, his fingertips brushing gently against hers before he let his lace together with hers letting them intertwine. “I like that even though the worlds pretty much gone to hell–you still find the good in things.” He murmured quietly, whether it was in him or the things around her. She was like a candle in the darkness for him, always bringing him back from the edge.

...

  The quiet of the house, the warmth of the blankets, the soft words, none of it had been what she expected. She had surprised herself with this idea, and him even moreso. She was still surprised he’d let her talk him into it at all. But she couldn’t see where his mind was, reliving all the things he regretted, or all the things he liked about her. All she had to go on was the turned away face and the quiet, and that was still enough. This game was going much, much better than the last one she’d tried, and she liked it. She liked it even better than the game where she’d tried to guess what his job had been before. Because whatever they were before, it was mattering less and less. She’d been a high school nobody who could hold a tune, and he was a drifter.

  Now, they mattered. They mattered to someone they didn’t _have_ to matter to. They matched up in a way they shouldn’t, and she could play this game forever. She’d keep finding new things to tell him about, because he needed to hear it. Like she needed to hear it from him. Beth worried when he hadn’t responded to her touch – but then he did. He looked at their hands, he let that sit, and then he met her eye, and she knew enough. She knew she wasn’t being dumb. Not completely, anyway. Who knew when this had all started, whatever _it_ was. It was running deeper than she could play off, but she didn’t want to play it off.

  Beth kept smiling, though she had never stopped. She might never stop at this point, the muscles trained into place by how sweet he kept being. So Beth scooted closer, her knees knocking his, their hands still together. She used her other hand to gently tilt his face back, so he’d stop looking away. "I like that you trust me enough t’let me be in your space. I like that you trust me at all. ‘Cause I trust you, too." It’s more than the game was meant for, but they were learning it together, making it up as they went.

  Her index finger twitched against his cheek, scruffing at the mix of hair and stubble. She tried not to think too much about it, and how incredibly different it was to the other boys that she had kissed. Things had been different before, with all the boys in her life just that – boys. They were lucky (and embarrassingly proud) when they got a few stray hairs. Daryl’s face was years beyond theirs, but he was just as boyish under the weathered skin.

  "I don’t wanna, but maybe we should sleep. S’late. And the sun’ll be up, and you’ll hate me for keepin’ you up." It hurt to say, but it was the truth. She’d been tired all day, and she’d waited so late for him, and this had to end eventually. It hurt, but the truth often did.

...

    He didn’t think he could ever get tired of this game, he loved everything she had to say and even though he wouldn’t admit it, he loved opening up to her as well. She made him nervous but in a good way, the constant reminder of butterflies in his stomach only proved that. He never really opened up to anyone, even before all this he mainly kept everything inside. The only person that knew a lot about him was Merle but he was long gone. Beth knew almost as much as Merle did, the only thing Beth didn’t know was that his father used to get drunk and beat the shit out of him, it explained the scars on his back and it was something he was planning on keeping to himself.

    He liked that too about himself, Beth was the only one that he had let in his space – and he fought it at first. Boy, did he fight it. He pushed her away in the beginning but she surprised him, she pushed right back–just as hard. That wasn’t something he was used to, he was used to pushing and people just backing away and giving up, but not her – no she never gave up, not with him and not with anything. She was one strong woman.

    His gaze shifted back up to her noticing as she scooted closer, her knees gently bumping his and he felt a lump in his throat. She had closed the gap between the two of them and now he felt her soft fingertips against his jaw and he felt like he got the wind knocked out of him. He leaned into her touch slightly, loving the feeling of her hand on his face–he couldn’t help but think about more, about what it would be like to kiss her, to hold her. He quickly shoved the thoughts aside as his blue hues looked into hers, almost curiously as if he was asking what was going on, what was going to happen next. Beth Greene kept him on his toes.

    A small hint of a frown tugged on his lips as she suggested going to bed, he didn’t want to sleep–he wanted to stay awake all night playing this stupid game, see where it lead them but he knew she was right. He was tired, his eyes were starting to burn slightly from how long he had been awake, he was thinking it was probably over twenty-four hours. He nodded slowly.

    “Yea–good idea.”

...

  Beth saw the frown. It was right there by the smile. But she could accept it, if it meant he would rest. That’s all she had wanted that morning, and it’d all snowballed into this thing she couldn’t explain. It was the way he _leaned_ into her touch. She always felt oddly powerful around Daryl. By all accounts, he had the strength, the weight, the height, he was stronger. But she felt like she had all this power, that her words could cut him down, that her touch could break him, and it scared her. It made her so much more careful and timid than she normally was, but maybe that’s why he trusted her to be this close.

  "I know it’s a good idea, it was my idea. They tend to be the best, as y’can see." Beth’s tone is tart, borderline arrogant. Hell, it _was_ arrogant, but she grinned all the same. The blankets, the scotch, the game of ‘I like…’, all of it had been a hit. Or so she believed. She gently ran her hand across his cheek before drawing back and away. They’d have to blow out the candles. Two had given up and sputtered out, so she only had to blow out four of the six. She hadn’t wanted to pull away, but it was all getting a little – a little much.

  There was moonlight, but only just. She could make out his shoulders and hair, and the dark shadows across his face. He looked ominous in the lack of light and she sucked in a breath. It formed into a yawn, and she was back into squirming around through the blankets. Daryl hadn’t much of a choice, seeing as Beth looped their fingers back together, like before. Today had been weird. Good weird. She liked this kind of weird. But it worried her; would their time together be brushed back under the rug? Was this anything, or was it nothing?

  "Was your turn." Beth continued to wriggle, trying her best to one-handedly snuggle under the blankets. She was long since used to sleeping fully clothed, but couldn’t help but think how warm it would be to share a bed with Daryl. And that wasn’t a phrase she’d ever expected to have happen. Beth was thankful for the lack of light, because her face was split with mischief, her lips quirked with thoughts beyond proper. But it wasn’t _like_ that.

...

     He wished he could do that, he wished he could be confident like she was. Nothing seemed to phase her, him on the other hand she would catch himself off guard all the time. She just oozed confidence it seemed, that was one of the many things he liked about her and if they were not going to sleep and still playing that silly game he would bring it up in one of the next rounds. He couldn’t help but to snort a quiet laugh at her words, shaking his head lightly. “Yea–you had some good ones tonight.” He murmured, he was glad he didn’t avoid her. He was glad that he entertained her silly idea and actually came up here to see what she had set up because he loved it.

   He watched as she pulled away, he was already missing her touch but he let his eyes linger on her now that it was dark it would be less obvious that he was staring–or so he hoped. Once she came back over to the blankets he moved to pull one of them so he could lay it over the two of them so they didn’t get cold in the night, spreading it out evenly to make sure that she was covered and comfortable. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he felt her hand find his in the dark, he laced their fingers together giving her a gentle squeeze before he slowly closed his eyes letting himself relax, something he didn’t do too often.

 “Thought you were done playin’.” He murmured quietly because honestly he could go on forever, “I’ll remember that for next time we play, I’ll go first.”He murmured quietly. He hoped that they would play again, he just hoped that they would get time like this again–that this wasn’t just a one night deal. That tomorrow they’d wake up and go their different ways and ignore each other, not like she’d ignore him but him ignoring her. He knew he had control over that and he needed to remind himself of how nice this was and that he wanted to do this again. Maybe he could ask her to set this up for them again, maybe not tomorrow but in a week or so–just to feel this way again.

   It was so dark in the room he couldn’t see anything anyway, he could barely make out where she was so he kept his eyes closed, listening only to the sounds of their breathing as he knew it wouldn’t be long before he drifted off to sleep. He was tired, so tired and he was fighting to stay awake but he knew it wouldn’t be long until he lulled off. “Sorry if I fall asleep on ya–” He murmured quietly, his voice laced with a sleepy tone.

...

  Today has been ridiculous. Beth hadn’t really found words yet, not since he’d first said it was okay for her to join him on that bed. That was a pinnacle, she had thought. She’d thought it couldn’t get any better than them, laying quietly, an hour, a little bit of privacy. She thought about the hand currently in her own, the complete quiet aside from his breathing, and the day coming. She wondered if things would keep getting better, and she wondered if she was ready for it. But the future was uncertain, and there were runs, and there were complications. She had lost Zach unexpectedly, but she had been glad to have known him.

  The thought of losing Daryl wasn’t like that. She hardly knew Daryl. She’d gotten glimpses, when he wouldn’t turn away or hide his eyes, but there was so much more she hadn’t asked yet. She didn’t know his favorite color, or favorite movie, and she didn’t even know if those things mattered anymore. In the darkness, she just felt anxious, and excited, and she felt like there was so much more than she could properly get out in words. The offer to go first _next time_ , that got her. She allowed him to settle the blanket over them, and she let the darkness and silence settle over them.

  "Okay, seein’ as you won’t, I’ll go _for_ you. "

  And Beth inched closer, cheek against his shoulder, her hand finding his forearm as it had that morning. Her breath was catching between them, warm and heavy with the alcohol they’d shared, but she wasn’t thinking about any of that. "I _think_ you like me." She shifted closer, flush against him, just enough to lean up and peck him. Like before, except not. Whether she’d missed his cheek, or his lips, she’d gotten the little mole above his lip, and the corner of his lips, skin hot beneath the fuzz.

  She smiled to herself, and settled back. She left that between them, eyes drooping, somewhere between sleepy and tipsy, and she was fading quickly. She was an idiot, but at least she trusted Daryl enough to tell her if she was wrong. He’d had no issues telling her when she was wrong in the past, whether in his reactions, or words. Or both.

   "And I think I like you, too."

...

  He honestly didn’t know what was going on, he thought she was done playing and then she was speaking up again and he wasn’t ready for what came next. His breath hitched slightly at her words, she was right and he wasn’t about to protest and he wasn’t about to agree with her either. He honestly didn’t know what to do, he felt completely flustered–completely exposed and he wasn’t sure how to handle all of this. Worry’s filled his head, worry about what all this meant, where this would take them–what if it ruined what they already had between them? What if he was worrying for nothing? What if tomorrow they never spoke of this again?

      There were too many what if’s for his liking, he searched for the right thing to say–was there really a right thing to say when someone called you out on liking them? Probably not, if there was Daryl had no idea what it was. What happened next though completely took him off guard, he was sure she didn’t mean to do that–he was sure that she had meant to kiss his cheek once more. This time though she had missed, she had kissed the corner of his mouth almost, her lips dangerously close to his and left him wanting _more_. Before he could even act on it, before he could really think about what was really going on her lips were gone, next time–he decided. Next time he’d press for more, deepen the kiss and see where things would take them, _next time_. He really hoped there would be a next time.

    He then decided she was probably expecting an answer, something, anything and he figured he owed her at least that much. “You’re always right aren’t ya?”He murmured quietly, his voice barely above a whisper as he chewed on the inside of his cheek trying to collect his thoughts, he knew he was supposed to be going to sleep but honestly right now that was the last thing on his mind. All he could think about was the blonde next to him, how she had nearly kissed him and how her hand felt soft in his and how he never wanted to let go.

  Those seven little words caused his heart to practically leap out of his chest, beating wildly as she said she liked him too–everything was very delicate though, their whole dynamic was delicate and he was so afraid of screwing things up with her, of scaring her off or maybe her waking up one day to realize how silly she had been the night before. How she was just drunk on lack of sleep and meant none of it, no he couldn’t think like that anymore. Because of Beth he usually saw the better in things and right now he wanted to believe that she had meant every word.

...

  It was said. Beth had pushed, and pushed, and she was about ready to burst into confetti or flames or something, but it was said. The best of it was, she didn’t need anything back. Daryl could pretend he’d not heard her, that’d he had gone to sleep. There were a few ways out for him, and she thought it was safe. Because it wasn’t so difficult for her to say. She’d been the one to ask out Jimmy, and Zach, and she had to stop thinking about them. It was like thinking of a lighter when you really wanted the sun – and she was loopy, getting too metaphorical, too _big_. She felt like she had to be, to counteract how clumsy she had been. But the spot she’d pecked, it worked. It was a step.

  One step at a time. So she might have lied to Maggie, a little. She’d promised it wasn’t like that, but maybe Maggie knew. Maybe everyone knew, or maybe no one knew, but Beth didn’t care because now they both knew. She was waiting to see if he untangled himself and left, or if he pushed away. He didn’t. Instead, he poked fun, and she wanted to cry. She didn’t know why. She wasn’t _going_ to, but she was just tired, and overwhelmed, and things were just very much. Beth pressed her face into his shoulder, smirk disguised in his skin. Her lips pressed against him, not quite a kiss, not quite nothing.

  "Glad I changed your mind." It was another confession, but softer, slipping out between parted lips, nearly a sigh. Beth hadn’t slept much the night before, given Judith kept fussing and running hot and cold. She just wanted to enjoy this, but she also knew it’d have to end, eventually. She sighed one final time, going stiller, breathing tapering out. She could feel his warmth and her arm stretched across him, pulling him closer, encouraging him to hug her back. Whatever this was, she didn’t care. It was the nicest she’d felt in a long, long while. Months, probably. She didn’t feel like she’d shatter. Right now, she could only hope she didn’t drool on him, or snore.

  Something told her that Daryl wouldn’t care either way. And if she did, it didn’t matter. She woke the next morning to angry sunlight attacking her eyes, blankets all wound up around them, an arm around her waist and warmth at her back, and she had to peer over her shoulder to remind herself why that was. Their hands were still linked, and she wondered if this was just all a sweet dream.


	17. turnover.

  Beth had changed his mind about good people out in the world, and Daryl had almost told her at the funeral home. It was too much of a confession to put forward, so instead he’d offered her a shrug and an inaudible mumble. She was smarter than that; she had to know it was her.

  It wasn’t only the realization there were good people. Beth had changed his mind about a lot of things. Like, maybe the world wasn’t as dark as it seemed. Maybe there was some light in it, even when he had thought all hope was lost.

  Beth had shown him that there was still good out there.

  Daryl felt his become heavier, and it only got worse as she pulled him closer. His face grew hotter by the second, though he could hear the shift in her breathing. It was deeper, lower, a reassuring sound compared to silence. He’d gotten used to it, from the times he’d slept near her, but this was so, so different.

  His arm remained around her, protective, and he let out a content sigh. Who the hell knew when this could happen again; he had to savor it.

  It wouldn’t be for a while, if ever, so he knew he needed to savor every moment. This would all be gone by the time morning came when the light from outside threw everything back to reality.

  Against his will, sleep found him. His arms loosened around Beth but kept her close to his chest. They fit around her waist, though he’d never done this before with anyone. The restless night spent outside the walls with Aaron, mixed with the clash on the foldout bed…

  As fast as he’d succumbed to exhaustion he was awake again, bleary-eyed at the room around him. The sun peeked through the window, straight into his eyes. He had a scowl on his face, as he wasn’t ready to wake up yet. He’d only just fallen asleep, or so it seemed. While he slept sprawled out without blankets or pillow, this morning was different.

  His face turned a dark shade of red as he realized his arms had remained wrapped around her, with her pressed up against his chest. He felt his breath get caught in his throat for a long moment, unsure what to do.

  Daryl opted to peel away his arms, and hers, so Beth wouldn’t be scared off.

...

  There was the smell of leather mixed with sweat and dirt, and everything she associated with Daryl. Beth smiled into the mixture, her cheeks red from the warmth and her hair tangled into the zippers.

  You’d have thought that Beth cuddled Daryl all the time, for how comfortable they were. Maybe it helped that Beth had shared a bed with people before, but part of her wondered about Daryl. She filed it away as a question for later, her curiosity not yet strong enough to breach the subject.

  The beam of sunlight that cut across her face was warm, he was warm, the blankets were warm, but it was great. Beth had missed this. She’d gotten used to snuggling with boys, and girls, and friends and boyfriends, whoever would let her cuddle with them.

  This was like and  _unlike_  all that. She wriggled backward into him, trying to escape the sunlight. There wasn’t much room to maneuver, and she was conscious not to  _bug_ him too much. Because of the sun’s persistence, she rolled over to face him. Her head dipped, face nestled against his chest and beneath the edge of the blanket.

  This was a  _Big Deal_ , but it didn’t feel all that big at all. It felt more like an ‘ _oh_ ’, like something they should have been doing a lot longer than they had. She wondered if he would have let her cuddle him like this before, before Grady, but she didn’t think so.

  Or it didn’t so much matter.

  "Make it go away, Daryl." Beth pushed her cheek into the leather, thoroughly aware of how it felt to have it against her. She fidgeted with it, a sleepy hand playing at the edges of it. "How the heck d’you sleep with this on? Mustn’t be comfy." Her hand stilled, with the other still locked firmly onto his. She yawned, still burrowed into him, still enjoying his warmth, still pretending that they could stay here all day.

  Would people notice if they stayed here?

  Beth smiled, not yet looking up at Daryl. She was focused on the expanse of black and leather, and the smell that wasn’t bad but was definitely him. Sweat and dirt and smoke and all the things that should make her want to move away, but have the opposite effect.

  It’s something like home, and she wanted it. Beth shifted her hand from the vest to the shirt beneath, her fingers against the back of his neck. These were silly touches, touches that didn’t mean anything compared to the frantic and dreamlike kiss they’d had the day before -- had that even really happened? She was too afraid to mention it, in case it had been a dream.

  Beth trailed her fingers along the ropes of muscle along his neck, his shoulders, because she wanted to feel if all of him is strong. And she found that he was. It was a mix of hard bone and muscle, hot under her touch despite the tension.

  It was  _nice_.

...

    It was common for people to sleep in such close quarters now. It was for safety as much as it was for space, and either count would have been fine for Daryl. He had slept in a bed beside Carol before but that time was different. This whole scenario was different. With Carol, he had been at the complete opposite end of the bed from her, and they’d not so much as touched elbows. They had both been so tired, so utterly  _aching_  that all they could do was sleep in shifts, strung out on the mattress.

  That time his heart had been slow and steady, whereas now he could hear each thump in his head. His face hadn’t been flushed red either, so no, this time was  _very_  different.

  Daryl was the first one up in Alexandria unless he’d had a night shift. He’d always be up before the sun, out with his knife or bow on the hunt for game.

  Now?

  He never wanted to think of a place outside these sheets, or away from this warmth. He wanted to tell the sun to fuck off for a while, and complain until they got some more  _time_. He didn’t know what he’d do with the time -- or, he did, but it worried him to fixate on.

   His breath hitched slightly as she wiggled more into him, so clearly him trying to pull away wasn’t going to work in his favor. She was already awake and she clearly knew what had happened sometime in the night. He hadn’t remembered reaching out for her, Daryl had never really been the cuddle type so he couldn’t help but wonder how the hell this had happened in the first place.

  His eyes lingered on her face once she rolled over. Her eyes were narrowed, barely open, and her hair was mussed around her cheeks.

  He decided it wouldn’t be so bad to wake up next to her more often. No, not bad at all.

  “Hm?”

  He had been so used to sleeping in his clothes, it took him nearly a week to sleep here without his shoes on. He still slept in his jeans and vest, ready to fight if he had to. He hadn’t let himself relax enough to actually wear comfortable clothes like sweats to bed, or anything less than that.

  “It ain’t so bad.” He said with a roll of his shoulders, to adjust his grip on her. The leather was so worn it was soft now. Not the cleanest, sure, but nothing in this world was all that pristine. Nothing aside from Beth.

  He decided maybe next time he’d take it off, wear something more comfortable to bed –  _maybe_. What if there wasn’t a  _next_ _time_ , though? The realization snapped him low in the gut, enough to make him wince. The two were able to sneak off last night but that didn’t mean it would happen again, or that she wanted it to happen again.

_Whatever._

  His hair was a disheveled mess and his eyes were barely open and he was struggling to wake up, though when he felt her fingertips brushing along the base of his neck the hair on the back of his neck stood up.

  She had that effect on him, even the slightest touch caused him to get all flustered and caused goosebumps to form on his rough skin. His mouth felt dry as he searched for something to say, all he could hear was his heartbeat and he needed to fill the noise.

  “Gotta get up.”

...

  Beth wasn’t a lounger by nature. She was raised on a farm with animals that needed tending to, and crops to check in on. Not a lot of either, as it wasn’t a commercial farm, but enough that she had chores. She was used to an early rise and had learned how to kick herself out of bed.

  Except this wasn’t quite the same. Not even a little.

  Daryl hadn’t pushed her away or grumbled for her to scram, so she figured this was a win. Whatever this was, or wasn’t, had worked in her favor. Beth would feel pleased about it for the rest of the day, should they get up and on with their work.

  The idle fingertips fell away from his skin, as her bottom lip stuck out in disagreement.

  "I guess." Beth mock-whined, but neither would believe it. There wasn’t much sense in lying around all day, and it was far later than she normally slept.

  With some effort, Beth pulled back. She turned her head this way and that, cracking her neck, her back, all her parts coming back together. Her hand went to her shirt, adjusting it, ensuring it was still where it should be. She moved a lot when she was in bed, something she felt she should probably apologize for.

  But she didn’t.

  Instead she swept in to peck him on the forehead, faintly, too nervous to do anything more. Not right now, not like the other day. With the harsh light of the day ahead of them, everything felt realer. There was plenty they had to talk about, she figured. The kiss, the back and forth, the snuggling…

  It’d be best to continue gently, cautiously, and let him dictate the pace. She knew how she felt.

   _Except_ , Beth thought, _he’d pretty much admitted to liking me,_ a fact that rolled in like clouds over her. It didn’t make her feel upset, just heavy with the promise of change, good or bad.

  Beth hoped it was a change for the better.

  She climbed out of the blanket nest, enough to peruse their stash of food. She settled on a couple of muesli bars, out of date but probably okay. She offered them both to Daryl, to let him pick a flavor. And that’s when she properly looked at him.

  Daryl had sleepy eyes, mussed hair, and a blush across his face she worried was now chronic. He looked ridiculous to her like it was unreal how good he looked. Maybe she was biased, but it was  _ridiculous_. Her indignance showed on her face, at how  _cute_  he looked with bedhead.

  "Y’got peach, or chocolate. Breakfast in bed, sir." Beth twiddled her head back and forth proudly as she beaming down at him. She was thankful her dreams had been peaceful, and that they hadn’t been – hm.

   _Dark._

  She’d go with the word  _dark_  because to think about them properly caused her pulse to quicken in the worst way. A bang, a loud echo in her head, air where there shouldn’t be air, then nothing but pain – no.

  Nope.

  Daryl.

 _Focus on the lump of a man, all curled up and cute,_  Beth told herself.

…

  Daryl wondered if people were looking for them, wondering where they were. If someone managed to put the pieces together, to figure out that they had disappeared together. He doubted it. Save for the run-in with Maggie and the others at the house, they’d kept a distance around others. It was only when her tended to her side, or at night…

  Most people probably assumed they were off doing their own thing, that they had came to bed late and had woken up early. He didn’t like when people were in his business, even though he wasn’t exactly sure what all this was. That only made the need for privacy even more apparent.

  Part of him had hoped for another kiss, another kiss on the corner of his mouth – whatever Beth was comfortable with. They were no longer huddled together under dim candlelight playing a game, now they were back to the real world and it was time to get back to chores and everyday life.

  He stretched his arms, a quiet groan tugged from him as he sat up. His arms were sore as always, from the work involved with a cross and with runs. It had helped to sleep on a bundle of pillows rather than the floor.

  It also helped sleeping next to her – he wasn’t sure how, but he knew it did.

  His gaze shifted back over to her as he thought about it for a moment.

  “Chocolate.”

  He had always had a bit of a sweet tooth and even growing up he’d prefer the chocolatey sugary cereals over something bland like cheerios. He reached out to take the chocolate one from her hand, eyeing it for a moment before opening it up.

  A small smile tugged on the corner of his lips as he watched her, he was normally pretty grumpy in the morning–took him a while to fully wake up but here he was, a minute after waking up with a smile on his face and it was all because of  _her_.

  He knew it wouldn’t be much longer until they finished their breakfast and had to go back out there and go their own ways. Who knew how much longer it would be until they got another chance like this, probably a while and he wanted to make sure he used every last minute. He was still confused, unsure of feelings – hers mainly as he knew he had feelings for her.

  “If it’s breakfast in bed ya gotta join me.” He said reaching his free hand to tug her back down into the blanket fort.

...

  At least Beth was  _sure_  that Daryl was used to her being in his space, and pecking him wherever she pleased (within _reason_ ). Good. If he’d allow it, she’d do it as often as possible.

  Privately, of course.

  She didn’t have to ask to know he’d have a few stern words if she started peppering him with kisses in front of the group. It’d be funny, in a cruel way, and she didn’t want to even see how that’d play out. She wasn’t even sure she’d want to do that, either. She had never minded kissing her boyfriend in front of people, but Daryl wasn’t her boyfriend. Not so far as she was aware.

  When he picked the chocolate one, she whined. "You’re lucky I like you enough t’take the peach one."

  Beth was getting used to his messy hair and soft eyes, but she was not used to that smile. He didn’t smile so often, but then, neither did she. Not unless she was forcing it, to make others think she was okay. It was a pretty lie, wrapped in soft skin and pearly whites. She was smiling genuinely at Daryl, though.

  It made her feel almost normal, and she had long since decided that was the only  _almost_  she’d take in this new world. Getting shot, all that came with it, it gave her a new perspective. Nothing was forever, and you only got the chances that you took.

  While he’d taken to his muesli bar, she was still trying to peel her own open. It was a mix of hand-eye clumsiness, and the packet being  _annoying_. She stood between Daryl and the snacks, with messy hair and sleepy features. When he spoke, she looked up from her bar.

  "Hmm -  _hey_." Beth followed the tug, surprised. She landed in much the same spot as before, knee bumping  It was like when Shawn used to charge up static to let loose on her, a shock, the kind that reminded you to keep your eyes peeled.

  But then it was something else, her heart shooting off, her scalp tingling. Of  _all_  things, she groused. "Room service doesn’t usually join you in bed, sir," Beth added with a huff of indignation that she didn’t really feel. The tart edge to the word ‘sir’ was enough to impress her humor. But she was comfy, back in the blanket trap, pulled there by Daryl. Maybe, if she was the one pushing, he was the one pulling. Maybe he didn’t have to push at all.

  Beth had sunk her face into his shoulder, curled up by his side between his arm and the blankets, shameless. She was still fumbling with her damn wrapper, too, but now it had nothing to do with the wrapper and everything to do with him. "Dang…  _Plastic_."

...

  Daryl liked peaches but he wasn’t a fan of peach flavored things, they tasted too artificial. If she had asked though he would have quickly traded her and given up the chocolate one for her, but he made a mental note to find her something, something sweet like chocolate or candy on his next run.

  He was planning on going out in the next few days with Glenn and Michonne, they were supposed to be looking for food but technically the candy was food right? If he was lucky he would just grab enough, just enough for her to make up for taking the last chocolate breakfast bar and leaving her stuck with the peach one.

  Another small grin tugged at his lips as she landed back down next to him, her knee bumping his once more, much like last night and he wasn’t complaining. Did she just call him sir? His brows furrowed a bit at the little nickname that she had given him and he shot her a look. He couldn’t remember ever being called sir, not even in the old world.

  “Sir huh?”He raised a brow, unsure how he felt about the nickname. “Good thing this ain’t normal room service then.” He murmured as he moved to take a bite from his bar as he had opened it with ease.

    His gaze shifted down to her, watching her curiously as she practically buried herself in his side, he could still hear the shuffling of the plastic as she seemed to be struggling and it took everything he had to not laugh at her struggle. He moved to set his bar down on his thigh and then reached to take the bar from her hand.

  “Lemme help ya.”He murmured as they probably would have been there all day until she opened the damn bar. He took the bar in his hands quickly working his fingers and opening it up with ease, giving her a knowing look before passing the bar back over to her.

  He’d be lying if he were to say he didn’t find it adorable, her fumbling with the plastic wrapper of a breakfast bar, blaming the plastic for her fumbling fingers. Maybe he had some sort of effect on her–nah that couldn’t be it. She was probably just tired and couldn’t get the wrapper open because it was stubborn and she had just loosened it up for him.

  Yeah, that was probably it.

...

  Beth smirked about the nickname she’d thrown his way and the room service comment. No. Definitely wasn’t the usual room service, the kind that comes in and turns your blankets over, or bring proper breakfast. Given they’d spent the night cuddling, no. She wasn’t room service in the least.

  Still, it was nice, no nerves, no awkward shifts, no fear of being close to one another. It was sweet, and comfortable, and their own little moment. She knew it’d fade, at least a little. They’d go back to hesitant touches, scarce brushes, all that. The group, they mightn’t care, but what if they did?

  "I  _almost_  had it."

  The brain damage wasn’t clear often. Mostly when she’d just woken up, or when she was stressed. Maybe this counted as a kind of stressed, given her rapid heartbeat. The blood pumping into her head made her scars run warm, with the bullet wound near painful. She was used to it.

  It was a chronic ache, one she didn’t see fit to bring up or complain about. Everyone had aches, and Carl had lost an eye. But she noticed the chocolate one on his thigh, undefended. And bravely she swiped it up, to take a bite from one corner.

  "Thanks, Daryl," Beth said sweetly, head leaned back against his shoulder, regarding him with absolute anglicism. As if she hadn’t thieved him of the chocolate one. It wasn’t even about that. Beth pretended to hold it away from him before quickly swapping them back.

  "I only wanted a bit – figured you wouldn’t mind." She added, now tucking into her peach bar. She wondered if Maggie was going to come kick the door down, or if her sister didn’t care. Not in a mean way.

  Just, she had so much on her plate.

  Everyone did.

  It was weird. Just, this. Them sitting quietly, cuddled up in blankets, eating muesli bars. It wasn’t something she’d ever pictured, but maybe it was something she always wanted. She kept peeking up at him, wondering what her next push would be. Or would they just stay like this forever? Would they plateau, just enjoying one another, gentle touches, a bubble of happiness in an otherwise dark time.

  "Really, though, thank you," Beth repeated, for nothing in particular. For everything.

…

 “I know ya did, just figured we didn’t have all day–thought you could use the help.”He murmured with another small grin tugging on his lips. He got a kick out of teasing her, it was all in good fun and it was never mean or rude.

  The teasing started back when they were off on their own, he remembered teasing her about how she was heavier than she looked when he had given her a piggyback. Really she wasn’t, he could honestly carry her around all day as she was light as a feather. He never really knew why it started, probably when he realized how much more mature she was than he gave her credit for.

  His eyes narrowed at her as he watched her steal the chocolate breakfast bar from off his leg, it was his own fault really–he had left it there unguarded so he could help her.

  “That’s messed up Greene.” While his tone was irritated, the smile on his lips said otherwise. “Ya figured  _wrong_.” He teased as they swapped bars and he got his own back, moving to take a bite from the side that she had just stolen one from, wasn’t half bad–almost tasted like real chocolate,  _almost_.

  His gaze shifted over to her curiously as he munched on his bar, he really was a sloppy eater but he was  _trying_  not to get crumbs all over the place. He moved to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand and waited till he was done chewing to talk.

  “What are you thankin’ me for?”He asked her curiously, surely she wasn’t thanking him for the small bite of chocolate that she had stolen from him. He couldn’t think of anything else, he hadn’t really done anything for her as of lately, the only thing he had done was push her away up until last night.

  He finished up his bar, moving to wipe his hands on his pants, he seemed to not make  _too_ much of a mess, only a few crumbs in his lap that would fall off when he stood up.

  “All that did was make me want real chocolate.”He said with a snorted laugh as he couldn’t even remember the last time he had  _real_  sweets.

...

  It was give and take, and she appreciated that. Daryl didn’t let up, and he didn’t coddle her. Far from it. He left her to defend herself, but kept close enough, just in case. And sure, he’d swooped in to help her with her wrapper, but it wasn’t so bad. She’d just have to try harder next time, so he didn’t have to help her. She was doing some exercises  that Denise had given her, to better her change in motor skills. Some days were better than others. Again, nowhere near as bad as Carl, so she couldn’t complain.

  "I’m thanking you because you let me do something nice for you, and you didn’t even fight me that much on it." Beth pulled a bit of the bar off, popping it into her mouth. She found biting it directly was actually a bit difficult, given how old they were. She’d just rip off the bits, to save her teeth. Daryl seemed fine with it, though. And she turned her attention away from him eating, because he wasn’t the most graceful to watch. Especially not up close. But she didn’t much  _care_. At least he wasn’t slurping on his fingers or anything.

  "I think all the real chocolate must be gone by now. Dairy would be off, wouldn’t it?" Beth frowned, popping the last bit of her bar into her mouth. She absently sucked the syrupy peach flavor off her fingers, now aware that she was just as bad as him for once. But it was all in the interest of saving her teeth from  _yanking_ at the hardened bar. She felt a little wilted, even though she had slept so well. They’d have to go soon. She stared at the bay window, which was covered by curtains and lace.

  "We should move in here." Beth said. Her voice was distant, and thoughtful. it was an idle suggestion, that wouldn’t get much steam, not on her own merits. "Split the group up, spread between the two houses. Maybe we’d all end up with our own rooms." And she looked back up at Daryl, curious about what he thought of her idea. She missed her cell at the prison, with its decorations and books. "It’d make things easier. More comfortable, too. Imagine, comin’ home from a run, dead tired, and you got your own room to go curl up in, sprawl in, all yours." Beth said with a blissful expression.

  Maybe she was being dumb. But it didn’t sound so distant.

…

    He had even surprised himself when he didn’t fight her much, yes last night he had been tired and he promised himself that he was going to avoid her but the second he got to the porch he couldn’t help but follow her into the abandoned house.

  He knew what she wanted to show him wasn’t life or death, but there he was playing her game. He let her cover his eyes with her hands, and run him into a  _damn_  door. It had made him laugh, something she seemed able to do even when he was at his worst. He was glad he wasn’t being stubborn last night, for the first time in a long time he actually slept through the entire night and slept in past sunrise _._

_It had been good._

  “Yeah but there’s gotta be other stuff out there like sour candy and other sweets.” He said while he didn’t think he’d be able to have chocolate again unless they were to make it themselves, but that would involve them getting some dairy cows. He knew that stuff like Skittles never went bad, given they were chock full of chemicals and sugar. Sure, they might be hard but they would still taste like they originally did before the expiration date.

  Once he had finished he let his eyes linger on her for a moment. He watched her suck at her fingers before the pieces clicked together in his head. He pointed stared down at his lap, unsure how she made such a messy thing  _attractive_.

  Hell, everything she did he found attractive and he wasn’t sure what it was about her. He noticed the crumbs and chunks from his own bar and made to wipe them onto the floor. Even when he was trying to be neat he was still a damn slob.

  “Maybe ‘s time–”He nodded as they had been waiting till they were more comfortable here but they were slowly starting to fit into this place, people could get their own rooms and it would help that Maggie and Glenn, Rick and Michonne would share so others could get their own room. He wouldn’t mind getting his own space, having something like this every night and not having to worry about others invading his privacy, the only person he didn’t mind was Beth. He now enjoyed having her in his space though he didn’t know if he could ever really tell her that.

  “We can talk to Rick, see what he thinks ‘bout all that.”He murmured quietly, he couldn’t help but to picture it.

  Maybe it was all wishful thinking.

...

  Beth wasn’t sure how they’d gotten here, and she wasn’t sure how she’d leave, either. It was like a hole was cut into the universe, and they’d slipped out of existence for a bit. There was a holler outside, nothing urgent, but  _something_.

  That, and the breakfast, and the push to keep up in Alexandria, it was enough to spur her on. She committed this to memory, how he smiled, how he felt, the warmth, all of it. She’d hugged him times before, but this was different. The spark that had started yesterday, all from her idle touch of his shoulder, it was something.

  Now it was up to her to work it out if he’d let her. Beth sighed through her nose, casting one final look up from under Daryl’s arm.

  "Maybe it’ll be like the prison when we had our own spaces. You could have a proper room this time, too. Really." She hadn’t liked how he’d slept up on the rafters, on the stairs, anywhere up and away from everyone. She’d never see him sleeping, not unless she crept out to pee in the middle of the night, and even  _then_ , he’d woken to her passing. Not that he’d said anything.

  She just knew. He never settled, never relaxed, but he’d started to, around her. Maybe it was foolish of her to think it was all her doing, but – it was, wasn’t it?

  Beth snuck around kiss his cheek, her fingers scratching at his beard, grinning like a sinner. He’d have to tell her to stop, for all the good that would do. But he if told her to, she would. She’d only do as much as he’d allow her, and the feeling was mutual.

  That was another nice thing. Beth didn’t feel like she was playing the defensive, or explaining her way around  _things_. Daryl didn’t want that from her, or if he did, he’d hidden it very well. Sometimes he’d look at her a certain way, but it was never predatory. She had seen him being predatory. She trusted him.

  She trusted him so damn much, it nearly hurt.

  "Checkout is 11am, you better hustle or you’re gonna have t’book another night. We at the Greene Suites don’t appreciate  _loafers_." Beth was bouncing from foot to foot in front of him. She wasn’t sure what time it was, or why she was in such a favorable mood, but she’d take it. It beat the tiredness and the ache of caring for a child too early. But she did it with no complaints. Beth had her hands offered out to Daryl, ready to yank him up from the blankets if he needed help.

  The hotel shtick amused her. Mostly because something told her Daryl had never gotten to stay at a proper hotel, given he’d never been on vacation.

…

      He could have sworn that he was still asleep, that he was going to wake up any moment and be by himself, laying on the floor in the other house. He kept waiting for that to happen but it didn’t. All this felt too good to be true. The whole group had experienced nothing but darkness for the past couple months, loss after loss and finally things looked like they were going to be okay.

  Maybe they could be  _good_. They could finally set down roots here, get comfortable and get their own rooms, maybe he could actually start sleeping in comfortable clothes, unpack his things.

      The only reason he didn’t want a cell at the prison was because he didn’t want to feel like an animal, he didn’t want to be caged up. He didn’t like the cells, he’d go in one if he needed to just to get someone or something but he didn’t like the idea of sleeping in one. He had never been to jail, though most assumed that he had–not even the drunk tank.

  Sure, he had bailed his brother out countless times but he had never been locked up himself. He wasn’t about to volunteer himself to sleep in a cell, he didn’t mind sleeping in the rafters. He heard everything that went on and was alert.

  He couldn’t help though but wonder what it would be like to have his own space. It’d be like when he had his own tent at the farm, he enjoyed that–he enjoyed his privacy.

  “My own room huh?”He mused at the thought, all this seemed like it was far-fetched but it could happen, it would happen.

     She did that thing again, kissing him on the cheek once more causing his cheeks to darken once more, part of him hated that she had that effect on him, part of him loved it. He couldn’t tell which part had won, but right now he felt flustered. He averted his gaze as he brought up his fingertips, to brush over the spot she had kissed.

     It felt nice. He’d never tell her to stop, he enjoyed it far too much and he craved more.

     He couldn’t help but snort a laugh, he had no idea what time it was but he doubted it was that late in the day, he wanted to tease her, tell her it was probably only eight and he still had a couple more hours with her but he decided against it, they’d have another time–another time like this, when? He wasn’t sure, but it would happen again. He had never been to a hotel before, never been on a vacation–camping didn’t count because he camped for survival.

  Once his mom took him and Merle to a motel to live out of for a couple months, his mom got sick of the beatings but it wasn’t long till she went back to him. It didn’t have turndown service, it barely had two beds and a TV that only showed black and white and had a grand total of four channels, two in Spanish.

    Daryl let out a dramatic sigh reaching up for her hands so he could get up with ease, finally standing up and stretching his back properly.

  “If check out ain’t till eleven, seems like I got a little more time.” He teased.

…

  Beth wanted to ask when he’d last had his own room, one that was completely his, not shared with Merle, or temporary. The drifter life he’d claimed before,  she wondered if that allowed for such a thing. And did he even want that? Maybe he was happier when he was on the move, not tied down to anyone or anything.

  Beth thought it was more that no one had ever asked him to stay, but she didn’t want to assume. She could ask him sometime, if only to get a better understanding of him. Her room on the farm had been prim and simple, not much of anything, just books, a few pretty pictures, and some knick-knacks.

  The kiss had been well enough received, and she was starting to lose count. Was that four, or five? It was kind of nice, to have it be something she couldn’t even keep track of. Slowly, it was just becoming normal between them. Not like the first one, all daring and certainty.

  Still, a kiss on the kick wasn’t going to get her in trouble.

  Not that anyone could get her in trouble for doing any damn thing she wanted to do. She was an adult, enough that she’d be able to drive a car legally – not that, that was even a measurement anymore. And maybe it was a bad thing, arguing her own adulthood with herself like she had to earn it.

  With Daryl on his feet, Beth smiled up at him She’d never really notice the difference in height unless he was right by her, and it was clear now. Especially with the lack of boots. She felt a whole lot shorter than she actually was, likely because he was so broad. Beth snapped her attention back to his sleepy features, her hands framed on her hips.

  "What’re we gonna do with a few more hours?" Beth raised an eyebrow.

  The thought of her own room, and Daryl with his own room, that was nice. It was nice to think that people might be able to slide back into some normalcy, and maybe they’d be able to do this again. Just this. Talk all night, and play silly games, and just get to know one another better.

  She rocked forward, arms going around his chest, one final hug with no one around. She didn’t know if it made all that much of a different, but she figured now was as good a time as any. She might as well get the most out of this, because between runs and guard duty, she’d probably not see him like this again for a while.

  If ever.

...

     Growing up Daryl never had his own room, hell even when he was an adult he never stayed in a place too long to consider something  _his_. He never really got used to sharing, he hated having Merle in his space and he hated crashing on friends couches but that was life, and it was better than living with his asshole of a father.

  He never stayed in one place too long, though, went place to place and only kept what he could keep easily in a duffle bag, mainly clothes and a few pictures and that was about it. Now though those pictures were long gone, pictures of his mother–pictures of her and him together, just gone.

      He didn’t think he’d ever get used to those kisses, each time it surprised him, less and less each time but still. His body still betrayed him and his cheeks would flare up anytime she was even  _close_  to him.

  Though he was sure he’d act a bit differently if she were to do that in front of others, he would probably shy away feeling a bit flustered. Whatever this was that was going on between them was exactly that, just  _between_  them. He didn’t need other people in their business and wanted to make sure they had their privacy.

    His gaze shifted down to her, a small smile tugging on his lips as his gaze caught hers for a moment, he couldn’t help but notice the height difference between the two of them when she wasn’t wearing her boots. He offered her a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders as he honestly didn’t know but he would appreciate even a few more minutes with her.

  “If you’re dyin’ to get rid of me we can just head back out, ‘m sure I got chores to catch up on.”He murmured quietly.

    He tensed up slightly at first when he felt her arms moving to wrap around him, he nearly forgot to breathe for a moment but then he let himself relax, let out a breath he had been holding in and carefully lifted up his arms to return the hug, his hands awkwardly resting on her elbows, calloused fingertips gently brushing against her arms as he ducked to hide slightly behind his hair.

  He savored the moment as he didn’t know when this would happen again, he didn’t pull away and decided that it would have to be her that ended the hug, he just stood lock-limbed and awkward in the center of the room. She fit against his chest in a way that might kill him one day.

...

  The drifter life hadn’t been anything like she’d expected. She'd grown up with a clear cut  _home_. Because she had her family, and a big house, and so many friends. She never thought she’d be looking for the next place to rest, or collecting possessions things into broken plastic bags. It was privilege, she acknowledged, but this world wasn’t really what anyone was prepared for. Beth had once thought it was a world Daryl was meant for, but that tasted sour now. It implied he couldn’t have better, or that his suffering equated to survival skills. Which it did – but he shouldn’t  _have_ to be the one going out, fighting, risking his life. No one should have to do that.

  They’d spent the better part of the night locked together, arms at her waist and his face in her hair. He still froze at her touch. He’s breathing, though, but her arms were locked around him, and she can feel him being soft.

  Maybe it’s her expecting too much.

  She hugged in closer, cheek rasped by the buttons on his shirt, the sound of his heart in her ear. She hugged him like it was the last time she’d get the chance to hug him, because, in this world, it might be. After a long moment, Beth realized he wasn’t moving. People would usually draw back, and he hadn’t. He was still, hands at her arms, warmth at her chest, and it was so  _normal_. She loved it.

  "I’m not dyin’ to rid of you." Beth echoed, eyes narrowed though he couldn’t see her face. "We just got jobs to do, and people are gonna start to worry." With that Beth drew back, examining his face despite how his hair obscured it. She ran her fingers through his bangs, enough that she could meet his eye. She smiled up at him and drew back.

  "I’ve got t’take Judes off Carol, and you got a run, don’t you?" Beth said, tone empty. She dragged on her boots and waited for him to do the same. Once they were both kitted, shoes on, she took his hand and led him to the door.

  An excuse to hold his hand one more time before the chance vanished. Because once they stepped outside, there was every chance this little space would vanish. Beth wasn’t lucky enough for it to remain; neither was Daryl.


	18. sweet.

Beth had a smile plastered on her face, and part of her hoped it would be permanent.

The sun felt brighter, her lunch was tastier, her smile felt more genuine. She would claim it was the decent night’s sleep. It was a lie through omission, as the reason she'd slept so well remained a secret.

For now.

There was work to do, sure, but her gaze had softened into empty space. She stood by the stove, her hip rested against the counter. She was responsible for cooking up casseroles out of the fresh goods they had. She had received an ancient cookbook from a kind older woman across the street.

These recipes spoke of ‘a hearty lifespan’, which meant they wouldn’t go bad as fast. The ingredients were plain, the tastes were serviceable, but it was work she could do.

It didn't matter if her hands shook when she cooked, or when she'd stumble as vertigo hit. These spells had become occasional, she reminded herself. She was better than she had been before.

When the door to the home cracked open, Beth didn’t hide her smile.

Glenn, Daryl, Rick had gone out on a short run outside of Alexandria to check abandoned cars. The food situation in Alexandria was borderline desperate. Daryl wanted to let the local game replenish itself, which meant a break from fresh game.

The supplies from Hilltop helped, but it wasn't enough.

It was about her family home safe, and she could see three heads total, and that’s all that mattered. She smiled to Glenn and Rick, but her smile only got wider when she made eye contact with Daryl.

"Everythin’ good? Oh, Michonne’s on guard duty, Maggie is plantin’." Beth explained, stepping forward.

Rick and Glenn looked relieved at the mention of their partners. It had been true a few hours ago, so she could only hope nothing had changed.

Beth hoped they'd act on her words straight away, but she wouldn't rush them out the door. Her heart was in her throat and her chest felt tigh. All while Beth felt her heart in her throat, chest tightening, wondering if they’d go, if she’d be so lucky.

Nothing against either… It wasn’t like that.  
...

Their goal was to check out the abandoned cars around Alexandria for anything useful.

Daryl had a different focus for the day.

He kept his attention on food, sure, but he'd stash any sweets he found for Beth. It was his personal mission, as Maggie complained to him once about Beth's sweet tooth.

He also felt bad about the chocolate breakfast bar he'd taken from her that same morning. She had eaten the peach all the same, with minimal complaints, but he figured he owed her one. He owed her so much more than that, but he'd start small and simple.

Daryl could find her a damn chocolate bar.

The cars only turned over a few tins of beans and some spare parts to repair their vehicles. As they pulled apart another engine, his confidence waned. Daryl watched the sun's position by habit, to track the time. By the time the sun hit the midway point they'd found a first aid kit and some clothes for Judith, but it wasn't candy.

At least he hadn't made the promise to anyone except himself. He could handle the disappointment in himself, but not from her.

Everything changed when they pushed out an extra mile to a convenience store. Rick and Glenn agreed it was worth a look. As they rolled up, Daryl took in the smashed windows and busted down doors. The shattered glass on the ground forced him to squint as he inspected the ruins of the store.

As they expected, the store wasn't a huge supply but it was something. Whoever had picked through it first been in a rush. Daryl could read that from the sprawl of displays and splashes of blood across the floor.

They found snack items, all savory. Wasn't that just his damn luck. He tossed pack after pack into his backpack, a series of grumbles issued as he worked. His hand stilled on a packet of pork rinds as he spotted it.

It was a bag of lollypops, only a dozen or so.

A smile tugged on his lips as he stuffed them into his pocket. He knew it was a small gesture, something that they didn’t need, but he wanted to do something nice for her. In this world there was little to look forward to, so every win counted. If he could get a small smile from her, it'd be worth it.

The trip back to Alexandria was easy, so much so that Daryl expected a horde to pop out of nowhere. They arrived back safe and sound within Alexandria, to which he could only sigh with relief.

Daryl followed in step behind Rick and Glenn. They were both exhausted and eager to return to their -- people? Partners. Whatever the word they used was. For once Daryl could empathise, the thought of something as simple as a smile enough to lift his step.

As they entered Rick's home, Daryl spotted the blonde. She was in the kitchen with a dozen things in the works, a smile on her lips which only got wider as their eyes met. Daryl swore that her face lit up when she saw him, as if it were a special look reserved for him. He felt ill, his stomach in guts all in knots as he palmed his vest pocket.

Daryl offered her a nod, a smile of his own tucked on his lips. He was excited to give her the sweets.

"Oh, well, that's kind of you t'keep track." Rick smiled. "How's Judith?"

"Good, sleeping," Beth replied, her attention feinted between Rick and Glenn.

"You don't have to stay around Beth, but it's appreciated -- do what you gotta."

Beth nodded an acknowledgment, her attention settled on Glenn.

“I'll tell Maggie you said hey,” Glenn backed up several steps. He passed a glance between Daryl and Beth, brows furrowed but his lips tilted with a smile. Daryl ignored it, lip sneered. He'd seen what he'd seen, but he didn't know shit. It was fine. He didn't need people in their business.

The two men disappeared back outside, to find Michonne and Maggie he assumed.

The archer relaxed once the door thumped shut. It meant alone time with Beth, even if it was only a minute. That was plenty to hand over the gift without a strange look from everyone else. The creep with the candy -- he couldn't think like that.

It wasn't like that.

“Got ya somethin’.” Daryl grinned as he approached her. He felt excited, like how kids always looked in movies about Christmas. "S'all yours." He pulled out the packet of lollypops for her, though he fussed with the plastic to make sure it looked nice.  
…

  
The two men slunk out with tired shoulders and heavy feet, which left her alone with Daryl. She cast a wary look to her casserole, and dialed the temperature down a smidge. She didn’t know if something was up, but he looked happier than she had seen him…

Except for that morning as they knocked knees and cuddled in the blankets. Her hands smoothed at her clothes, though they stayed no where specific. She wanted to look good.

Not that Daryl would care. He wasn’t about to judge her on her appearance. He'd seen her throw up and nursed her through the wound from the wolf. He'd seen more of her than most, and she trusted him.

"What? Daryl, you don’t have to bring me things." Beth returned his enthusiasm, close enough to touch him, and –

"Oh."

The wind was knocked from her, and the impulse to throw up was immediate. She smacked a hand to her mouth, eyes wide. She looked to Daryl, who seemed so happy, but she couldn’t. She can’t.

"You shouldn’t have," Beth spoke between her fingers, her excitement fake. Her hand slipped to her chin, though her fingers remained caged around her lips.

Beth was okay. She was okay. A dumb lollipop isn’t going to make her feel ill. It was the compounded image of Daryl holding the lollipops -- a man she trusted, a man she cared for -- with something that had been a forewarning of… Beth stepped back, her hip slammed into counter, hand clutched at the base of her throat. She felt like a deer in headlights, and looked the same. Flashes, images, feelings, god, feelings she didn’t fucking want or need, things she had pushed way down.

The skin along her stomach burned, her mouth burned, she burned. She had dealt with this. He was dead. He was dead, and she had killed him, and she had seen him ripped apart, but it didn’t undo the intent, the hands, the burn.

"I can’t – couldn’t. Carl would want those. Or, Enid. But it’s sweet of you. It’s… It’s nice." She added, her throat on fire as bile attacked her tongue.

….

Daryl didn’t know what he had expected.

Maybe he had expected her to be excited, and maybe a hug. It was rare that he craved something physical from someone else, but Beth was a whole other entity. He looked forward to any touch from her, and he'd been left desperate to return to the way they woke up next to one another under the blankets.

He didn’t expect anything in return. The gesture was about her, to give her something to thank her. She had set up that space last night for him, for them. He also wanted to give her something he knew she liked -- something that Maggie had hinted before that she liked. It was hard to come by candy now, hence why he couldn’t believe how lucky he'd been with the whole bag.

But the response was off the mark. Beth seemed confused – almost as if she was concerned. His eyes narrowed at her, his hand still extended towards her. But she didn't take it.

A small frown tugged on his lips as it went from bad to worse -- as she said she couldn’t take it. Beth always put others before herself and he wanted her to have this. He wanted her to have something good.

“At least take one.” He shook his head, mindful that she deserved at least one. Maybe a whole packet was too much. But one? She had to take that.

His clumsy fingers fumbled to open up the small bag. He felt his hands shake and his chest tighten, which only got worse in her tone. This wasn’t the response he'd expected.

It took him a moment, but he managed to snatch one out from the plastic, a red one as that was his favorite. He took a page from Beth’s book, to push the anxiety aside. He could be like her, a bit more forward, a bit more playful – something that Daryl Dixon had been in his younger years, before the world took a shit on his life.

“I’ll bring the rest to Carl and Enid but come on ya gotta have at least one.”He told her, as nerves continued to ravage his inside. "Just one," he took a step towards her, his hand extended. What he saw was someone who refused to be selfish, and he thought she deserved to be selfish. He waved the lollypop at her, as if to entice her into a taste.

“C’mon, ya know you want it, Greene.”

...

  
It wasn’t the lollipops. It was a mixture of surprise, of Daryl so close, of them being put onto her, of what they had been at Grady. They were a part of the control, and subsequent violation.

Lollypops had been something good turned against her, used against her. Like she had been used, and all that could have followed if she hadn’t killed Gorman. Her brain was spinning a web of nasty things together, and tainted this kindness. Even as he ripped the bag open, she kept shaking her head, a polite mumble of ‘no’ on repeat.

Whatever good feelings Beth had from their morning together had been stuffed down beneath her shallow breaths and locked joints. She felt as if she were watching her body react, shaken hands and shallow breaths. She wanted to scream for herself to take the damn lollipop, as Daryl didn't know better, he was trying, he was trying so hard.

Instead, she felt tears well up and roll down her cheeks, thick and fast.

"Later, okay? Later."

Words weren’t there now. She had to work extra hard nowadays to find the right words, and right now she had nothing but fuzz and fluff and hands where there shouldn’t be hands.

This only got worse as he stepped closer, where his presence was a source of reassurance she felt queasy. She couldn’t look at him, not as he smiled, even his smile was warped, not the same, not the one she’d worked so hard to bring out. She didn’t want to merge him with Gorman. She wanted him to go, to give her time, to let her calm down, to give her space.

Beth had never wanted Daryl to leave her space, not once. Not even when he’d shouted at her grabbed her wrist, dragged her outside – no. Not even when he hovered around her when he pestered her over her wounds.

These gestures of kindness, the idea of control, what the lollipop now meant to her mind, she was lost and embarrassed, and the feelings compounded.

"Stop it. Go away." Beth raised her hands, defensive and tiny fists clenched. She needed a minute, an hour, anything to bring herself back together. She hadn’t expected this. But the panic brought on worry, and that worry was making her brain relive all that Grady was, and she couldn’t.

Beth couldn’t.

...

  
Daryl took a step back, his cheeks red and his eyes wide. He felt like a puppy that had been smacked on the nose with a newspaper; he was unsure of what he had done wrong. His lips trembled around an apology as he saw the tears in her eyes, but the pieces didn't fit together.

Had he said the wrong thing?

"Hey, Beth," he felt stupid for his failed attempt at playful banter. All it did was blow up in his face. He hated it when people cried, but all the more when it was Beth. It felt like he got sucker punched in the gut.

The lollypop dropped to the ground as he moved forward to touch her, only for him to stop. She was upset because of him. He couldn’t comfort her – hell, she looked terrified of him in the moment. His heart sank as he stared at the floor.

This morning felt like years ago, it was something that he was sure he’d never get again, all because he did this. It hurt to know that he’d never feel what he felt this morning ever again.

“’M sorry–” His voice betrayed too much of his upset as his tone wavered. He shuffled his feet for a moment–he didn’t want to leave her there upset but he needed to, he was the reason she was upset in the first place.

He didn’t know where to go, what to do but he knew he needed to get the hell out of here not only because she asked but if someone else came they’d see her in the kitchen crying and assumed he did something to hurt her.

He dug out the lollipops from his pocket to ditch them in the trash can. He sped out of the house like she'd demanded in that weak, sad voice. There were far too many people outside for his liking.

People would see him and want to speak to him; they never left him alone. They'd prod and poke him, to ask him why he looked so heartbroken. He wasn't fucking heartbroken, he'd fucked up. He was a jackass with a stupid idea, and he'd fucked up everything. How did he explain that to people when he didn't get it himself?

Shit, he didn’t want to hear.

So he went into the house next door to Rick's, the same one as the night before. The familiarity was warm and open, welcome. He banged his shoulder on the same spot she'd walked him into, and he stumbled up the stairs just the same too.

Beth had prepared the room upstairs for them before, but it was empty now. It had been a one-time thing, sure. It wasn't as if they were about to move in together. Not after that; not after he'd made her cry over a damn lollipop. Or maybe it was him.

That sounded about right.

Daryl slumped against the wall that faced the large open window, legs propped up so his elbows could rest on them. He pulled out his pack of cigarettes. He fumbled with the lid, teeth grit around the butt as he got it free.

Even as the end caught aflame, he felt the lump in his throat. It was any wonder he could inhale the smoke through it, the lump that may never leave him. Her words ringing in his ears, ‘Go Away.’ He chewed on the inside of his cheek. He had heard much worse before but for some reason, those words hurt more than anything.

At least he could do that much for her.

...

Beth felt the edges Grady had given her. They were defensive, but sharp, and they hurt people without her intent. She needed Daryl to go away, because her chest hurt and she couldn’t fix this. She would only make him feel worse, and if he tried to touch her, she might scream. She had to let it happen, let it run through its course, then maybe…

Maybe she could be the person she had to be, in this world with darkness. The little ray of sunshine, the songbird, the hope for the hopeless – she was none of these things. She was a damaged little girl, sobbing about something long since passed.

From outside her body, she saw his hurt. She saw the nice thing he had done for her, and the way he looked at her. It was like this morning, a token, a gesture, and she’d screwed it up.

All because she was weak.

That was the nasty voice in her head, Dawn’s. It hissed at her, along her knowledge that she was a burden, a weight, a thing to be suffered in a group of warriors. Even Carl had changed, he had become what he needed to be.

The lollipop on the floor, and the ones he’d dumped, she collected. She picked them up, emotionless, and tucked them into the cabinet. She washed her hands if only to do something. She tended to the casserole, and she let her brain blank itself.

All she could hear was his apology, broken and whispered and so unlike his confident entrance. She had been so happy to see him, too. They had been so happy together. Why had she screwed this up for herself?

Her hands shook as she washed dishes, eyes glazed, breathing uneven. This was awful and unfair, and she knew – she knew she wasn’t as okay as she pretended to be.

The afternoon burned into dusk, and from dusk to twilight. Beth sat motionless in the corner of the shared lounge, hand tucked under her chin. Daryl hadn’t gone out the gate. She was thankful for that. Her mistake stuck in her mind; she couldn't say ‘go away’ to Daryl. It was dangerous and selfish, and was another thing she’d have to apologize for.

She had worked so hard to earn his trust, and to find safety in his presence, and she had sabotaged it. No one asked why she was red in the eyes, or why she was so quiet, and she wondered if they’d noticed. Maybe they just figured she would talk if she needed to.

Carol had sent her a few worried looks, but she’d returned them with empty eyes.

"Daryl come back yet?" Carol asked in a soft voice.

"Dunno, he was all pep, then… Seemed upset. You know him, though. He’s gonna do what he’s gonna do. Just hope he didn't sneak out over the wall to be -- dunno, sneaky." Glenn ran his fingers through his hair, though he tried not to look at Beth.

She didn’t need to see them to know all signs pointed to her, and how she’d screwed up. From the kisses exchanged in the common area, to how she'd told Maggie about a sleepover... She didn't want to know what Glenn thought of her.

Beth went out the door into the night, eyes too dry to cry again. She hoped. With no real knowledge of where to go, her feet took her to the only place she wanted to be. She’d just go sleep, let things settle, let Daryl come back, and she’d –

Find him.

In the room; their room, she thought with absent amusement.

"I didn’t know you were here, sorry, I’m sorry."

...  
The sun had dipped down past the wall of Alexandria, and suppertime came and went. Daryl often disappeared and people were used to that, no one was out looking for him. They knew he needed his space, and he'd kept within the walls.

His clothing reeked of nicotine and his mouth tasted of ash. He let each cigarette burn more than he smoked them and he tried to limit himself to one cigarette every few days. He only had them when he needed it, but today he felt like he needed three in a row. Hell, he felt like he needed a whole pack but he slid across the room to stop himself. He had to ration that or suffer withdrawals.

He was stuck in his current spot, leaning up against the wall as he looked down to his hands, remembering how her hand felt in his own and he chewed on the inside of his cheek. He thought back to earlier in the day trying to piece together what he did wrong, he didn’t understand it but he did something that upset Beth. He was never really good with people and sometimes he wasn’t the best at reading emotions but clearly he was way off base with Beth.

He had thought that maybe she returned the feelings, that they weren’t one-sided. They'd kissed, cuddled, done all the shit that he had never done before. He didn't hold hands with women before, he didn't share a bed with them. They fucked and they parted ways.

Now though, now things were different. The look in her eyes when he'd stepped closer forced into sharp relief the fact she was nineteen. She looked terrified and he felt like a monster. He'd helped her with her wounds, stitched her up and checked her ribs, but it had been innocent. He'd never touch her or hurt her, not like that.

Fuck, never like that. But that's what he'd done in that foldout bed, and again in this very room.

Beth had been too nice, she'd humored him. She couldn't have feelings for him, not when she was this literal swath of light and hope while he was a grubby asshole redneck.

His stomach growled for the lack of food, and he ignored it. He didn’t want to go into the other house and face people. He couldn't face her.

No, he’d stay here and remind himself that the good that he once had was now gone.

All that was left was this room, and the memories that it held.

In the vacant attention focused on the window, his gaze shifted. There was a sound outside the room, downstairs. He listened as someone walked up the steps and he kept quiet. He hoped it was Carl out on the prowl for privacy.

Instead, it's the last person that he wanted to see. Or, the last person he deserved to see.

Daryl caught the slash of blonde and pale flesh around the corner of the door and looked away. He fixated his gaze onto the floor instead. It hurt to even look at her. The feelings from earlier flooded him as he heard her voice, this time it was softer–not harsh like it was earlier

“’S fine.” He mumbled.

...

  
Beth hadn’t intended on Daryl being here. She expected him anywhere else, maybe at a guard post, or outside, but then it clicked. They’d come here for the same thing. Or, a similar thing. A reset to before Beth screwed everything up. She let out a huff through her nose, resolute.

"No. It’s not. You know it’s not."

The light was softer now, as it had been last night. There was a hazy air to the room, whether it was dust or smoke. The butts around him, the slung pack, and the absolute waft of smoke, she felt like she had interrupted him.

And what must he think of her? He would think of how she cried for attention and sympathy. Daryl would think she was weak, too, because she had wept over a sweet. He wouldn't think about how he liked her smile or her voice, like he’d said the night before.

Not that he liked her. Not that she liked him.

Beth had shredded all that with her edges from Grady, where she'd protected herself from nothing.

"It wasn’t your fault, what happened earlier. You couldn’t have known." Beth stepped into the room, hands set at her elbows, eyes tired. She had slept so well, and walked on air all day, and then she’d messed it up. She didn’t even know where to begin. "Things happened, at Grady." She remained by the door if only to stop him from running.

"Nothin’ awful," Beth added, to stop any worry. She didn’t want to rip this all out, not here, not at all. "Or, they awful were, but I didn’t realize how bad. Didn’t want to." She was still curled up against herself, arms crossed, head down a fraction.

Daryl didn’t want to hear her sob story. He’d endured abuse and had come out stronger. He suffered all of it in silence because he didn’t have to use others to feel better. But Beth knew this was all arguable. He broke with her, he revealed his heart, he let her in. She’d not done the same, and she’d never had to. But she had to, now. She had scars to wear, and things to say. Things she’d not told anyone. Things that she hadn’t thought she’d ever need to say.

"Can we talk about it? ‘Cause, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know, I didn’t think." Beth wiped at her eyes again, furious. She let out a soft laugh, pathetic and tired.

"I can go, if you don’t want me around. I’d understand. I was awful. I was so rude." She wanted to go curl up with him, to bury her face in his vest and breath in smoke and sweat and whatever he smelled like. It’d be better than the ghost of antibacterial soaps and too-clean sheets.  
...  
Daryl expected she’d leave the second she saw him. Maybe she would give him a disgusted look, but she'd leave.

There was no tell, no shift in weight away and down the stairs. It surprised him that she stayed, but he still couldn’t look at her just yet, it hurt too much to look at her because all he saw was how she looked at him in the kitchen, as tears streamed down her cheeks and fear in her eyes.

He had scared her and now he had to deal with that, he had to deal with the fact that whatever the two of them had was long gone and it was because of his own doing. His gaze shifted up to her curiously as she said what happened earlier wasn’t his fault, he figured it was, and he was ready to take the blame for it.

Daryl didn’t see her as rude. She wanted him to go away, even if he didn’t know what the reason was. She had at least been honest with him. If she'd continued to humor him, to act like she cared about him, he'd have suffered worse.

His brows furrowed in confusion as she talked about Grady. That the reaction in the kitchen had to do with something within Grady? He listened as she spoke, to all that she said and all that she omitted. The unspoken part was the worst. He couldn't handle what he didn't know.

His upset for their time together only worsened, for every moment he couldn't find the courage to ask her what happened at Grady. He knew that it had changed her, but she covered her scars better than he ever had. The ones on her cheek, her forehead, they showed but now she dug down into the worst ones. There were invisible scars, the kind that scratched up your mind and changed your outlook.

The kind that fucked up your self-worth. The pieces formed together in his mind, with how she'd backed down and away from him when he'd approached her. The way she'd stared at him with a distant look, the sort his mom would give his dad --

Fuck.

He clenched his fists as she said something had happened to her at Grady. He assumed the worst, that someone hurt her, a man he'd wager. Some asshole forced himself on her. Maybe they got to her, or maybe they only tried to. Daryl felt ill all the same.

Daryl pushed himself up from the floor, though he remained firm on the spot

“Yea–’m here if you wanna talk about it.”

He wanted to know what happened, but he couldn't push her to talk. He didn’t want to push her away either. He had opened up to her before, and now she was about to do the same. His mind raced and his fists were clenched at his sides so tight that his knuckles were white.

It had broken his heart to see her cry in the kitchen, and all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around her. He'd pull her close and offer her sweet words and reassure her; he'd do everything she had done for him. But he was too fucking shy and scared, so he remained still.

“What happened?” He hoped that she’d ease his mind, to tell him that nothing had happened. “You weren’t bein’ awful or rude Beth. I deserved it.” He wanted to make things better though he doubted that he could do that. He would be here for her though, if she needed just to open up to someone, he’d be here.

...

The readiness with which Daryl forgave her made Beth ache. It hurt because even when she was mad, when she was in the wrong, Daryl took it as his fault. It wasn’t.

All he had wanted to do was surprise her.

The innocence of the gesture mixed with his light attitude, it was just a big misunderstanding. A big horrible coincidence, to highlight how supremely damaged she was. But Beth wasn’t her plight at Grady. She was more than some asshole’s desire to get off with someone they perceived to be weak. She had proved him wrong.

"Okay.“ Beth stepped further in, relieved that he chose to stay. She didn’t want to dump all this onto him unless he agreed to it, and so she met his eye. "Don’t really know where to start.” She added, clumsy tone wrapped around her tongue. Her sleeves kept by her eyes, a preemptive strike against the tears that clung to her lashes.

“You saw it. Cops. Just, a lot of people, a lot of power play.” Beth now crossed her arms, head turned away. “The doctor, the one that fixed me up, he gave me a – a treat. A lollipop.”

Beth was a few feet away from Daryl as her story skirted around the issue. “But there was this one cop. He’s dead, before I even say more.” Beth insisted, attention set on Daryl’s face. “He used the girls at the hospital, hurt ‘em, was a real ass. And, he found me in my room, and he had that lollipop – it’s so dumb. It’s so dumb when I say it out loud.” Beth let out a breath, lips sneered.

"He’d been sucking on it, and – “ she gestured to her mouth face, lips pinched the same way they had been then. Her hand rested against her mouth, as she fought to keep the sensations from returning to her. "I got him. Like I said. He kept on me, waiting for me to get alone. And… He did. He got his hands on me…”

That was when she went quiet and stayed quiet, eyes distant. She didn’t remember it intentionally. Not how the cold snaked across her skin in the worst way. Not the grope, or the lips at her neck. The near-touches, the knee at her thighs, all of it too fresh in her mind again.

“I smashed a jar of sweets on his head, y’know, the lollipops they give kids if they’re good. He got eaten by a ward who’d turned. Didn’t cry. Didn’t feel anything. Figured I was broken or something.”

Beth let out a long, wavering breath. She’d not felt it at the time, but this latent effect took to her when she’d least expected it. Maybe it’d have been wiser to reveal all this to Daryl, and they could have avoided it. Maybe Beth just had to care less, and stop being so precious. She gritted her teeth, a mixture of frustrated and upset.

“I just needed you to know. Because if it happens again, if I start panicking like that, it’s not you. You don’t deserve it. You were doing something nice, and I screwed it up. I told myself I wouldn’t tell anyone, and I shouldn’t have – I shouldn’t make you listen to all this.”

...

Daryl felt the nerves bubble in his stomach as his concern over Grady was about to be put to rest. It sucked because he wasn’t that good at comfort or kind words. He had listened before to Carol after she lost Sophia – he tried to help her. He picked her a flower and told her the Cherokee Rose story that he had heard growing up.

The girl hadn't survived but the kindness remained, and he kept close to Carol because of it. Maybe his story hadn't helped, it had only annoyed her, but he'd tried. He always wanted to help. He wished there was a story that he could tell her that would make everything okay, but there wasn’t.

It was as if his boots had been nailed to the ground, as he remained still despite the urge to move towards her. He didn’t want to scare her off, he didn’t want her to look at him the way she had earlier when they were alone together in the kitchen, with those stupid lollypops.

He felt the twist of his guts as she spoke of some asshole at Grady. She explained how this man touched her and used candy to try to get her to do sexual things. He wished he had known this before, he felt like an idiot now. His approach in the kitchen had been a playful, but with that context? He must have seemed creepy -- so much so that he reminded her of that bastard.

He didn’t say anything at first. He let her talk, eager to listen. His fists were still clenched at his sides because he was angry, oh you better fucking believe he was angry, but not with her. There was nothing he could do as the man was dead, he felt rage and all he wanted to do was hurt the man, make him suffer for even a wrong look at Beth.

He couldn’t though. The guy was dead and he had to deal with the fact that unkind hands had touched her. His first instinct was to punch the wall, but he couldn't. He wanted to, but he had scared her once already and the house didn't deserve his wrath.

After a moment he felt pride rather than anger. He was proud that she had handled herself. The guilt remained, though, as it was another bad thing happened to her because of him. He had let the herd into the funeral home, and he had told her to go outside.

Daryl had beaten that track through his mind too many times to count; he only knew that it was his fault.

“I appreciate you, tellin’ me that–just wish you woulda told me all that before, I feel shitty.” He hated that he brought up all these bad memories as he only wanted to make good memories with her. “Wish there was somethin’ I could do to make things okay.” She needed time, time healed all wounds but even then they were still there -- the scars would always be there no matter how much time passed.

“You didn’t screw anythin’ up Beth, you were afraid–I get it and ‘m sorry." His brows furrowed in confusion as she beat herself up over all this, for how she spilled her guts to him. He needed to hear this. He appreciated it. “You didn’t make me do nothin’, I wanted to hear it–Ineeded to hear what happened to ya Beth.”

With a shallow breath, Daryl approached. Only one step, to match the dozen or so she'd taken towards him. He didn't want to scare her away, but he wanted to show her he cared. He couldn't use words; he had none to offer. Just mumbles and grunts, a series of guttural sounds.

...

Beth evened out her breaths, and the tears had stopped. She was shivering still, as if the room was chilly. It rocked her shoulders, arms crossed, turned in on herself for protection against her thoughts.

There wasn’t much more that she could add to her explanation. He needed to hear all of it, as an allusion to what had happened wasn’t enough. He’d fill in the blanks and make it all the worse. In reality, what had happened wasn’t asbad as it could have been.

She was alive, and she had fought back – that’s what Beth told herself. It could have been worse, she could have had it worse, and that she needed to stop being weak about it.

Daryl needed to know, because if they got closer, and she locked up, he needed to know that it wasn’t him. The thought of his hands on the same territory as Gorman made her stomach turn, enthusiasm and fear mixed together in her head. She wasn’t thinking about Daryl in the same beat as Gorman, but her brain was mixing and melding things it shouldn’t. It wouldn’t be anything like that.

It’d be more like her time with Zach, or Jimmy, not Gorman.

In fact, screw Gorman.

Screw Grady.

Beth wasn’t wouldn’t let them ruin her life any further than they already had. The explanation did nothing for the look of discontent from Daryl’s face. Beth wanted to tuck it away and never think about it, or talk about it. But she’d had to, because she’d nearly destroyed a good thing she had. This was so unlike her.

"I didn’t wanna add to all the bad things that everyone’s all got to carry. When you guys found me, I pushed it all back – everything that happened at Grady, I tried to leave it there. It wasn’t for you, or anyone." Beth pretended she was anyone else, someone strong and bold, and that she could handle this. Her shivering subsided as she drew herself back to the here and now.

This room had been such a nice place this morning, and last night. She’d gotten a lot more out of Daryl than she had expected, and she’d kissed him, almost. It was a lot of almost. She regarded the empty walls and window, and the pack of cigarettes that she knew must be Daryl’s.

"I would’ve told you, if I’d known it was a thing. I didn’t know you surprising me with lollipops was gonna set me off. I don’t know what happened. I thought I’d dealt with it." Clearly she had thought wrong. Beth wished that she had told him, too. But between how aggressively he’d avoided her leading up to yesterday, and their sleepover (that’s what she’d call it now), when had there been time?

Beth ran her fingers through her hair, to unknot it. She hadn’t expected him to have many kind words for her. Maybe a ‘toughen up’ or ‘bad luck’, but he offered more. She kept her focus on him as he spoke, and he apologized, and she shook her head.

"How about, we’re both sorry, and we both screwed up." Beth kept her tone light. "I was worried, when I told you to go away. I thought you’d go… Like, go. Like I wouldn’t see you again. I shouldn’t have said it – I should’ve just told you then and there, instead of making you hide up here."

His step forward didn’t faze her. She offered a faint smile. She met it with a step of her own, unsure of what she wanted. A hug seemed too much, but she’d never been against hugs.

It couldn’t hurt.

So she pushed forward, head angled, arms out, colliding with his chest with familiarity flooding her. The smell of smoke was a lot stronger, which was nice. It was more like the moonshine cabin they’d burnt down, and the long nights by the fire, and him. She’d always liked the smell of smoke.

Maybe she’d stopped caring about what was supposed to be good, and started focusing on what was actually good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consider this a part one of two parts. The chapter total would be 13k and I just figured it'd be better to cut it up. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) The tone shifts in the second part so...


	19. burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is less edited than I'd like, but HONESTLY there is 400k words here and I need to share 'em.

All this felt too familiar, so many times he had felt like he had let his family down because he hadn’t tried hard enough. The prison fell because of it, and Beth had gotten lost…

What if he could have done something and saved everyone, _everyone_ , not just a few of them. Now with Beth he couldn’t help but think the same thing, what if he could have gotten out with her, told her to hide in the house instead of telling her to go outside. All he was filled with was ‘what if’s’ and they ate him alive.

The questions always did, sharp edges dug into his mind.

He was grateful that she was alive, he knew he should have held onto that but he couldn’t – she had been _hurt_ at Grady. By that bitch Dawn, who was dead by his hand, and now asshole named Gorman... who was dead, but by Beth’s hand. He was still furious at both of them, furious at the dead and that’s probably what made matters worse. There was nothing he could to about it, he couldn’t seek revenge and make everything better.

But they rotted, and their damage lingered like the scent of that rot.

“We’re family -- we’re here f’each other...” He told her, though he refused to listen to those same words. He didn’t want the same thing to happen to Beth, he wanted her to be able to open up to him… Or at least _someone,_ so she wasn’t holding it all inside anymore.

“D’you remember what ya said to me? Back at the shack?” He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment as he remembered the drunken conversation. “Places like Grady, you gotta put away or it’ll kill you… You take a few steps forward, away from that _shit_. Ain’t like we can burn the place down.” He murmured with a small smile tugging on his lips as he remembered burning down that shack with her, how good it felt to sort of burn the past away.

“We can meet in the middle -- both gotta talk about shit.” He murmured even though he felt like she had no reason to apologize he didn’t want to argue, he wanted to just help her forget about everything. “‘Cause, I did think ‘bout it – just _goin’_.” He let his feet take him here instead, let him clear his head instead of leaving angry. This time he didn’t flinch or tense when her arms wrapped around him, instead he returned the hug – his arms wrapped strong around her as he tugged her close. His arms held her close wanting to protect her, from everything. He let out a quiet sigh as he nuzzled his nose into her hair.

He had no intention of letting her go anytime soon.

 

...

Daryl was right, and Beth’s chest felt lighter. She had pushed it back for so long, so afraid of what he and the others would think. It’d just reaffirm her weakness, and then she’d never be allowed to go out on a run. She wasn’t even sure runs were for her. She didn’t know, with her jilted motor skills and anxiety. But she could do it, if she was told she had to. She could pull it all together for her family, if they really needed her. Maybe that’s all any of them did. No one was meant for runs.

All the words of encouragement were weird, coming from Daryl. He had once been so difficult to get speaking; he’d bottle things up, lose his shit on a walker, and act like it hadn’t happened. The golf club was a good example of that. And the shack, like he said. She didn’t linger on either, her nose buried into his chest, beyond glad that his anger hadn’t translated into recklessness. Because with Daryl, that was always dangerously close. He didn’t value himself nearly as much as she valued him. It didn’t take a genius to notice that.

Then there was quiet, the kind she liked. It came with contentment, the kind that she found in his presence. And she felt so stupid all over again, because this could have been them earlier. They had the quiet of the house while everyone was working. They couldn’t do this all the time. They wouldn’t get many chances to be alone. There was too much work to be done, and she didn’t want to slack off, or be a burden. She had to make herself count. And that was the thinking of a place like Grady, undermining what she had with her family. She felt her stomach bubble with anger, throat tensed, eyes pinched shut. She remained buried in soft leather and muscle, feeling too lucky. She’d found them all again. She was safe.

_Please, God, let me feel safe._

"Think people’ll start to wonder where we keep going off to?" Beth asked, jokingly, lips catching against the leather. Her fingers picked at the embroidered wings on his vest, clumsily tracing the patterns around each feather. She was just glad he was hugging her, proper, comfortably. That was the main thing for her. There’d always been this hesitation, like she wasn’t to be touched, and it drove her crazy. Her scars proved it now. She wasn’t easy to break. She might be a little broken, inside, but she wasn’t broken.

And Daryl wasn’t going to break her.

Beth sneaked a look up at him, standing up on the tips of her toes to kiss his cheek.

Again.

She’d started, and she was unlikely to stop. They’d kissed before, deeper, longer, but it seemed like a taboo subject in the moonlight.

"Thank you f’listenin’. And caring. And for trying to do something nice for me. I’m glad I found you." She remained tightly attached to him, not sure what this all was. She liked it. Whatever it was, it felt good.

...

He knew their group wasn’t stupid, but they weren’t one to pry either. He wasn’t exactly sure what was going on here but he knew some members of the group were starting to pick up on it. Carol would give him these looks, Rosita always had something snarky to say under her breath – something in Spanish that he didn’t understand but she had a knowing smile on her face and it was almost like she was teasing him, like she was teasing the both of them.

Hell, the group seemed to know more about what was going on between them than he did.

He didn’t really care for a label, right now all that mattered was he was happy around her–she made him that way. A feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time, probably since back at the prison. The prison he was still not completely happy but they had walls and a safe place and he had his family, it was the first time he felt that emotion in such a long time.

This was different though, he was happy because of a place, he was happy because they had a safe place in the prison–because he had a home. Now his home really didn’t seem to matter, as long as he had Beth he was happy, she was his home.

Even if the two of them were to stay there in that run down funeral home it didn’t matter, it was still a home, wherever she was he was home. He was just starting to wrap his head around that, what all of that meant and trying to piece it all together. He did know that he could get used to this, he didn’t want this feeling to ever go away and after what happened this morning in the kitchen he knew to be far more careful with his actions around her.

The archer offered her a slight shrug as they did leave at separate times but the group could have still figured it out, figured out that they would wind up back next to one another.

“Dunno – but maybe they got too much on their plate to even think ‘bout that.”

Right now in this moment, he didn’t care what anyone else thought, he was just glad that Beth had come around and the two apologized to one another and they were speaking again. It would have killed him if what he did this morning in the kitchen caused her to hate him, to never want to speak to him again.

“You don’t gotta thank me, ‘m always gonna be here–if ya need someone to listen or someone to talk to.” He wasn’t exactly good at words but he could be there for her, a shoulder to cry on, honestly whatever she needed he would be that for her. He had no intention of letting go anytime soon, she’d have to be the one that pulled away.

“Glad you’re back Beth.” His cheeks a dark shade of red now from the peck on his cheek, ducking slightly to hide behind his hair.

...

Beth felt selfish, as she had trapped Daryl twice now.

Or three times.

Four…?

The point was, she’d lost count. But he held her tightly and met her concerns with gentle words. He had changed so much from the man she had first met on the farmhouse, and the prison. She wanted to ask what had happened to him when they were apart, but that felt too much like prying.

All she wanted to do was curl up again in the assortment of blankets, breath in smoke and let out stress. The sky was dark outside and cast his face in shadows. She couldn’t make out much of anything, just that he was here.

Maggie and Glenn hadn’t said much of anything to her about her time with Daryl, even with the suspected necking.

After they’d spent months together, after Grady, there wasn’t room for questions. They trusted her as much as they trusted Daryl. Or they understood that she was an adult, and wouldn’t be scolded. There were so few good things in this world, so to cut her off from that wasn’t their place. She wondered if Hershel would have approved, but that mattered less and less. She kept fidgeting with her hands before drawing back, eyes set on his face. She kept her hands at his sides, twined with the ties that kept his vest together.

“You can talk to me about things, too. You always welcome t'talk or ask me about things, if you don’t know.” This felt important to distinguish. Because she knew this was territory he hadn’t covered before. It didn’t seem like he had, anyway. He was so unsure of every move, and he’d only really reciprocate when she’d make the first move. Which was fine for her. She wasn’t one to slink around what she wanted. She was confident in her feelings, and she hoped that hadn’t been changed by the time she had spent away.

“I’m glad to be here. Really. I didn’t know if I’d see anyone again, and then Carol was brought in…” Beth blinked, with a vague memory of being by Carol’s side.

Beth looked at Daryl as if she’d not seen him in years. Maybe it was dumb, standing around, wrapped up in each other's arms again without _more_ , but they kept coming together for a reason. They’d met for a reason.

Beth didn’t know about soul mates or perfect partners, but she figured that what Daryl gave her was something close. He wasn’t a thing like she’d expected to like, with shaggy hair and the age gap. Those things didn’t so much matter. They were just extra things about him that she liked.

“I like being with you.” Beth wound her fingers into the front of shirt. She drew her lips in, a pinched smile, wondering if he’d pick up the lead.

…

He wasn’t one to open up easily, Beth knew that. The few times that he had opened up to her it all started with a bit of drunken yelling. She had pushed him, but he needed it–he needed someone to push back and not go just because he pushed. After the first time it came a bit easier, he opened up to her about what he was before all this–something that no one else in their family knew.

Just little things that may not seem like a big deal if it were anyone else, but it was a big deal coming from him.

He wanted to open up to her more but he didn’t even know where to begin to be honest, probably the struggle he had dealt with when she was gone. How he blamed himself for her disappearance… about Terminus.

“I know, thank you for that.”He murmured he just didn’t know if now was a good time, maybe some other time, right now he wanted to make this about her. If she needed to talk more or if she didn’t want to talk and they could just stay here like this.

Regardless he didn’t mind either way. He appreciated her being open and honest with him and he hoped that he could return the favor, one thing he did know was he would feel silly asking her things. All this was new to him, the whole feelings part of it. He was still trying to wrap his head around it and was far too shy to think of asking her anything.

A small frown tugged on the corner of his lips as he remembered when Carol was hit by that car, how she was taken too –how Beth saved her life. Carol knew there was something between the two of them–she didn’t say it to him but she could tell Daryl lost something when they thought they had lost Beth.

He felt like this was a do-over though, he remembered sitting outside that shack that reminded him of their own and smoking a cigarette. Burning himself with the butt of the cigarette and he cried, for the first time since he was with Beth.

He felt like he lost everything, he felt like he had left so much unsaid and now he was given another chance and he couldn’t muster up the courage to say or do a damn thing.

He felt like the normal color of his cheeks would never return, when she said that she liked being there with him he couldn’t help but read into it. What if she meant more? What if she meant what he had meant? He had no idea–he knew he should just ask but he kept chickening out. He drew in a breath, his breath hitching slightly as he felt her fingertips gripping at the front of his shirt now.

“What d’you mean -- ” His voice barely above a whisper and his gaze was stuck on the floor now.

...

Their interactions were as slow as they were circling. They tried to coax one another closer. Except Daryl couldn’t see what was happening. It dawned on her as he kept her eye contact, but didn’t push back. She saw it the same way she saw his pain at the golf club, the way he shut down and went on instinct. So why was this so much more difficult for her?

Maybe she was imagining it.

Maybe it was her, clutching at something that wasn’t there.

Maybe the kisses were _expected_ on his part, and she was a dumb girl in his eyes, with too much affection for too few touches.

She could feel him beneath her fingers, and he let her in. She was worried that if she misjudged things, he would shut her out completely. And so she remained still, taking in his face until she decided it might just be worth a risk.

It isn’t foreign for her, kisses with Daryl… New, sure, but not _unknown_. She’s kissed people before like this. That’s what she told herself as she steeled her core and set a hand on his cheek.

But now, she was tired in a whole new way. She was tired of wondering and feeling dumb, and she was absolutely exhausted by a back and forth she’d suffered for months. She remembered him at that kitchen table, when he’d ran. Maybe he’d seen affection in her eyes and hated it. She’d never been able to ask. But right now she wasn’t asking for anything, except a chance.

Maybe this would be a nail in the coffin. It was better than not knowing. She hated not knowing.

“That’s not how the game works.”

Beth kept one hand at the point she could best feel his heartbeat, while the other ruffled his beard.

And she insisted, a step forward, like he’d said. Her lips pressed against his in the most gentle way, soft and light. It lacked all that she wanted, all that they’d shared the day before, but it was a step. He was warm and his beard rasped her chin, and she tried not to laugh.

There was nothing worse than having a tongue in your face unwanted, so she hovered, barely there, and drew back. Her face was burning red, and she could faintly taste smoke. She acted with confidence, as though her stomach wasn’t full of butterflies. The sense of dread had been so persistent for so long, it was nice to have this glowing warmth as a kind of hope.

“It’s your turn,” Beth said matter-of-factly, enough of a gap between them so she could speak. Daryl was so warm under her hands and he was so sweet, and she was so, so angry about how she had treated him. But she had apologized and that was all she could do. She was at least acting as if it wasn’t a big thing when she knew it was. It changed everything.

...

He swore to himself that the next time she kissed him on the mouth he would try to push for more, he told himself that he wouldn’t chicken out. Now that it was actually happening it felt like his heart was about to leap out of his chest when he felt her soft lips pressed against his own, his eyes slowly closed and he moved to part his lips but the kiss was quick–just as quickly as it happened it was done and instead he ended up licking her chin. He slowly opened his eyes as he realized what had just happened and his cheeks burned a dark shade of red from embarrassment, muttering something incoherent under his breath as he rubbed at one of his flushed cheeks. “Shit – m'sorry.”

He felt like an idiot, he wanted to smack himself for being so stupid, he had kissed people before but it never really meant anything. He’d only kiss girls when he knew it would lead to sex, just to satisfy them–just to get off by something that wasn’t his own hand.

This was different, this was way different. He wanted to know what it was like, he wanted to know what it was like to kiss someone because you had feelings for them, whatever these feelings were–he just wanted to see and he totally ruined his chances. He wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised if she had laughed in his face and left, he deserved that.

He then realized what she was doing, this was the whole game thing again–he remembered when he used to hate little games, how she had to convince him to play I have never and now he looked forward to their games. “RIGHT–my turn.”He murmured quietly still a bit flustered after licking her on the chin. He racked his brain as he tried to think of something, anything and he chewed on his lower lip gently–missing the feeling of her lips there.

“I like…”He began to say wondering if he was going to say something real or if he was just going to say something stupid, he decided to blurt the first thing on his mind. “When y’kiss me.”

That whole scene in the kitchen felt like years ago, he felt like all the embarrassment from that had faded away and replaced itself with him practically tonguing her jaw and chin. He felt like he had zero game and he had no idea what he was doing when it came to her and he hoped that she found the humor of this and wasn’t completely turned off by how inexperienced he was with romance. He wasn’t inexperienced with being intimate but he was inexperienced with it when it meant something, as he had never loved anyone before–never made love only had sex.

...

Daryl remained with her, so that was a good sign. She knew if he’d run, she had made a mistake. Beth saw it coming, the lean, but she had tilted into it and he’d not accounted for her and – Beth let out a snort, as unattractive as possible, but didn’t quite laugh. It was close though. She drew his shirt into her hand and smiled, teeth dug into her inner cheek. She couldn’t laugh at that. Her hand reached up to clean off her chin and jaw, smiling painfully wide up at him.

“It’s the thought that counts.”

There was a set way things went. Beth would push, and he would blush, and they’d step closer and closer to something. It wasn’t the same every time you kissed someone, she knew that. Daryl wasn’t Zach, or Jimmy, and she needed to focus on him. What he liked and what he wanted, and what that meant for her. She wasn’t as experienced as him. She could only assume he’d seen people and done things, but that was an assumption. She wouldn’t judge him if he hadn’t. It wouldn’t surprise her, either. He was private. Still, she tipped forward, nose knocking his. Her hands framed his cheeks, thumbs brushing at the fuzz.

”I like… how flustered you get. It’s cute.” Beth shifted forward, slowly, a second chance at a kiss. The first one had been a test, to see if it was the thing to do. It wasn’t the first time she’d wanted to kiss him. She’d been struck by the impulse a few times but never followed through. She was afraid. But getting shot through the head, to survive that, it gave her perspective and pushed her forward.

And so she lingered this time, eyes shut, heart punching her ribcage and smoke in her lungs. Felt like it anyway. She’d promised Maggie it wasn’t like that. Except, it was. Crap. There was warmth beneath her hands, and against her body, and she couldn’t recall the last time she’d done this. Yesterday, sure, but it wasn’t the same. She felt so nervous, so damn scared, because what if she did something wrong? This felt so delicate, like if she might touch him the wrong way, or push too hard. For the moment she was locked onto the sensation of enjoying the closeness. Time wasn’t happening. Nothing was. She was gone, face going red and her core burning up.

…

She didn’t quite laugh but he could tell she had done her best to hold it in, he was grateful for that. He felt really embarrassed about the whole situation and because of the fact that kissing her was something he had been thinking about for a while now and he just royally screwed it up. He imagined their first kiss would be perfect, that he’d actually have some game and be able to kiss her but no –

things had to go differently. Instead, she was the one to initiate it and he was the one to screw it up, that’s how it was. She was perfect and he wasn't.

He couldn’t believe that she actually thought it was cute, his dark red cheeks–the way he fumbled with his hands when he was nervous, it was far from cute in his opinion. He snorted a quiet laugh, his eyes still glued to the floor and he was about to argue with her, tell her to be quiet because she was wrong but he wasn’t given the chance to. He could practically feel her gaze on him and he slowly lifted his gaze to meet hers, his breath getting caught in his throat as he saw her baby blue hue, their noses brushing and feeling her hands cup his cheeks.

All of it felt right, he wanted to remember everything about this moment, how good her hands felt on his face and how close they were. How he could feel his heartbeat hammering in his chest and it was a nervous, anxious kind of feeling but it was–nice. His own hands reached up nervously, unsure of where to place them so he placed them on her waist. His fingertips trembling slightly and he gripped a bit harder to get them to steady. It was in that moment he realized he was getting his second chance and he kept telling himself not to screw it up, he didn’t think he’d be getting a third chance so this was it.

As she leaned forward his eyes slowly closed and he felt her lips finally press against his and he nearly melted into the kiss. His fingertips brushed against her hips slightly as he parted his lips deepening the kiss as he wanted more. He wanted to spend all night here just kissing her as he felt a shiver run down his spine. This was honestly the best feeling in the world, it was better than any time he had ever had sex that was for sure and it was just kissing. But it was more than just that, he felt like the two of them were opening themselves up to one another without using words. His fingertips gripped at her hips to tug her closer, his body pressing up against hers, needing to feel the closeness.

He wasn’t thinking about anyone else right now, what anyone else would _think_ about this–all he was thinking about was her and being in this moment.

...

Shock didn’t encompass what happened to Beth when he set his hands on her waist. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. It didn’t matter that heat was streaming over her face, down her chest, everywhere lit up at once. It’s weird, so weird like she had snapped something into place and everything was going at once. It didn’t matter that he’d dumbly licked her chin, or that she’d snorted, because how could it? Right now all she could feel was the pull, and the lips against her own, and the stubble, and smoke, and this wasn’t real.

Except it was, and it was all her fault. If _fault_ was even the right word. She’d pushed, and pushed, and now they were here, tangled together, her breath lost with his, her face pulsing with blood. She couldn’t feel a thing outside where their bodies met, not even the faint panic that’d tightened her chest that afternoon. She tangled her hands in his hair, trying to push up and into him as much as possible, as much as she could without losing her balance. Except her balance didn’t matter right now. His was holding her tight enough that if she went limp, he’d probably keep her standing.

Crap.

Crap, crap, crap. It’s good, God, it’s so good, but this was such a bad idea. Like, not bad-bad. No. But, it was dangerous. Wasn’t it? They were sneaking off, hiding out in a house, not letting the others know, and what if they went out looking for them? The faint, logical part of her mind was outlining how all they had to do was poke their head next door, explain the situation and then be off again, but no. Daryl tugged her hips closer, and she lost that train of thought. Which was all the worse, but she found herself not caring all that much. She would, later, when Maggie or Rick had a stern word to her. They’d probably assume she was doing something stupid, which… She was. Sort of.

It didn’t feel stupid. Not even a little. Her nails dragged against the nape of his neck as she let out a sound of content. It’s close to a moan, given she was so used to being quiet, and being private. It didn’t matter they had this whole empty house to themselves. She had missed this, this feeling of closeness, the rush that came with kisses. The world had gone to shit, and she was still a dumb, carnal being, packed full of too much adrenaline and a crush too big for her to handle.

It was hardly a crush now, given he was tonguing her mouth, and how they'd fooled around yesterday and...

She drew back, enough to catch a breath, their noses knocking once again. She paused, eyes still closed, mouth hung open, just still, trying to let her mind catch up with whatever they were doing. Because this felt an awful lot like something, despite how many times she had said it was nothing.

"Pretty sure it was your turn again."


	20. promises.

Daryl stood under the spray as water ran down the drain. There was no soap in the bathroom as the house was vacated after a run gone bad. He stayed there until the water ran clear again, his hands enough to wash off the grime.

It was only about ten minutes and he felt like he’d calmed down enough to get out of the shower. At least his body temperature had returned to normal. He flicked the water off and snatched up a towel in the same motion, to then towel dry his hair. It was too long, _too_ damn long, but it took effort to cut.

He dropped the towel in favor of his clothes, dirty but _whatever_. The jeans were a bitch to get back on, given he’d failed to dry himself altogether.

Maybe it was laziness or impatience. He rushed after every shower, afraid of what may be around the corner. But it wasn’t walkers or people he was worried about -- just Beth. And that wasn’t her fault _, hell no_ , it was his. His fault, his stupidity, his -- a shake of his head and a squint to his eyes refocused his thoughts

Pants, shit, gonna need those.

Or --

 _Yeah, gonna need them_.

He got his jeans buttoned up after a shaky moment, tongue pinched between his teeth.

_Don’t be dumb. Not now, not with her, don’t be dumb, don’t be so fucking dumb --_

He rushed back to the bedroom, to see she was back. His cheeks grew hot again, probably because he was thinking about what the two of them had just done–about how last night when they had fallen asleep together they hadn’t kissed and how now things just felt different.

Good different, nervous different, _scared_ different.

Daryl grunted at the rise in temperature, and all he could think was how he should have never gotten out of that shower.

...

With the time Beth had, she had laid out the singular blanket and pillow. It looked sparse, and sad, and she felt a touch disappointed. Her first offering had been so impressive, and thought out, and she’d spent half an hour making sure it was just right.

Now, she was tugging at the threadbare quilt with disappointment.

Daryl ran really warm, so heat wasn’t really an issue. It was the principle of the thing. The sound of running water floated down the hall, and it was… So.

 _Okay_.

Daryl was of the _opinion_ that he was dirty, and who gave a crap if he got clean or not, et cetera. They’d discussed it between the moonshine cabin and the funeral home. He bathed, enough, and she could only assume that he did some kind of –

The main thing was, he showered now, and she was confused as to why. Did he feel awkward? Or had she done something to make him think he _had_ to? She was thankful the logical part of her said that they should wait, because there was a good chance _she_ should have a good long shower before that, and she’s just sick of being alone in this room.

But the water was switched off moments ago, and there’s scuffling. She listened, like he’d taught her, and she could almost hear the faint cussing. He was a graceful man when he was hunting, but clomped around otherwise. She was laying on the bed, arm part ways over her eyes, a smile permanently attached to her lips at this point.

Beth drew her arm back from her forward, a smile impossible to resist.

"Feelin’ better?" She propped herself up onto her elbows, head tilted to rest against her shoulder. It was sort of like last night, but not. And it was totally different from the couch, where they’d not even made real eye contact till it was too late. Her smile only deepened when she saw his hair, all out of his face.

The thing was, he’s handsome. He tried not to be handsome, she figured, but it only worked some of the time. When he was suckling on his fingers, or snarling off in a corner…

But right _now,_ she could see his strong bone structure, cut by dark shadows, and the clean skin. She gave him an odd look, something like pride, but not.

She reached out to him before he had the chance to leave, to tug him down onto the mattress.

"Thanks f’settin’ it down -- th’mattress. Had to _drag_ it up the stairs… God, that sucked." Beth laughed, threading her fingers through her hair. Nothing had changed since fifteen minutes ago, but everything had changed in the past day. She looked at nothing in particular, their legs, his hands, the mattress…

_What if it was just their bed?_

She let out all the nerves and stress, and looked at him from beneath thick lashes, proud of him, proud of where they were. They were doing more than surviving now, and she was so glad.

...

Daryl nodded, because _yeah_ , he was feeling better. He no longer felt like he was ready to jump out of his skin. His eyes lingered on the wall for a moment, where they had just been pressed up against before tearing his eyes away, he still couldn’t believe that had just happened… One kiss, that could be an accident. Two, same thing. But, three? Girl must’ve hated herself to make that many mistakes with him.

He fixed his gaze back on her, even in the darkness there he could still see her smile.

It darkened his cheeks and he shook his head -- only to realize his hair was back and away. He didn’t know how to feel about that because whenever he was shy or nervous he would just shake his hair in front of his eyes and he felt like he could disappear.

He stepped forward, her soft hand on his forearm with encouragement. He moved to lay back down on the mattress beside her, on his back with his eyes fixed at the ceiling. A grin tugged on his lips as he pictured the blonde heaving the mattress up the staircase, he sort of wished he could see that.

Hell, he’d actually _pay_ to see that.

“Now you’re makin’ me wish I didn’t set it down.” He said turning his head slightly to look at her, his gaze fixed on her smile – his grew larger. Her smile was so _damn_ contagious and his cheeks were hurt because of it.

Even though they had less, no candles and blankets all over the place just one blanket, one pillow and _them_. It felt like there was a lot more to say but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words, he wasn’t even sure what the words were himself. Were they still playing that silly game? He wasn’t sure. Probably not. They should probably just go to sleep, probably quit pushing their luck and just let the sleep overtake them and figure things out in the morning.

Whatever this  _thing_ between themwas, the way she made his chest ache when she wasn't around and how much worse it got when she was _with_ him. It was more than friendship, how much more?

He didn't do this. He just _didn't_. He couldn't. It wasn't in him, the affection, the patience, the kind touches, it ached. But he wanted it, her smiles and her affection and her touch, and so he endured the ache inside his chest. 

Were they a couple, like all the others that had sprouted up within Alexandria?

Oh God, that word. _Couples_. It sounded so strange and foreign in his head. He was overthinking things. Normally he loved the silence, but right now it only filled him with doubt and dread.

Were they dating, were they a couple, and anxiously comparing and contrasting.

The silence would kill him if he let it sit.

“Was anyone awake next door?”

...

The urge to examine him all scrubbed up and clean was overwhelming. She couldn’t quite make out his features in the dark, but she couldn’t smell the smoke and dirt as much. Honestly, in a world with corpses and rot and literal crap everywhere, your perspective shifted.

Not that Daryl smelled like shit –

Beth sucked in a breath, eyes focused on the still abandoned pack of cigarettes. She settled back, laying down proper, her back clicking into and out of place. She was like a cat in the sun, stretched to her fullest, feet twiddling by the end of the bed. She’d already ditched her boots by the door.

"Hey, I’m strong, took no time." It had fallen on her twice, and she’d hit her head once, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. He’d either laugh his ass off or make a fuss over her. She flicked her hair in his direction, snootily turning her nose into the air.

The quiet of the house was familiar, no snoring, just her and Daryl and the smell of fresh water. No soap. Probably all gone. She thought to say they could probably grab some soap, but – didn’t matter. She didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. She rolled onto her side, her hand sat between them on the bed.

And Daryl was thinking. He seemed to be, given the furrowed brow that replaced his otherwise open expression. Her lips tugged sideways with concern, her brow cocked down at him. Not that he’d _see_ her eyebrows. She leaned forward to peck his shoulder, nose glancing the scent of water and him all over again. It was nice and did nothing for the attempt at civility after the kissing from before. She didn’t know if they’d do that again, or just sleep, or what.

Honestly, she didn’t mind.

"Oh yeah, _everyone_ ." Beth nodded, very serious to the point of ridiculous. "Seeing as we vanished, two nights in a row, guess they got wise. They were asking where I was, and I said I was out kissing you – I’m _kiddin’,_ no, no one was awake. No one seemed t’notice us gone…"

Beth realized a little late that she’d made a misstep. In the darkness of the room, in this comfortable moment, she thought it was funny. But maybe it wasn’t as funny as she thought. She kept a careful eye on him, lips drawn to one side.

...

“I know you’re strong.”He murmured, another grin tugging at his lips as he eyed her curiously. He knew it was probably a difficult task lugging the mattress up the steps even though she played it off as no big deal–he thought that it was. She did all that for him, for _them_. She took the time to think about what he would have liked and set it up for him, even after he had been an ass and completely ditched her after the two of them laid together on the sofa bed.

Geez, that seemed like ages ago and not like it was yesterday morning. They had come so far since then it was almost terrifying to him.

There he was getting inside his own head again, he really needed to stop. Anytime he had something good he would justify to himself why he didn’t deserve it and push it away. Not let himself have it. He didn’t want to do that with Beth, he deserved some good didn’t he? Didn’t everyone deserve a bit of good in their lives? The way the world was now if they could just have a small glimmer of good maybe, just maybe things would turn out okay. He wasn’t sure what he ever did to deserve this though, he never really thought much of himself–never thought he deserved much of anything. However, he looked down, watching as she leaned forward pressing a small peck to his shoulder, blush creeping up his neck as he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

His eyes widened slightly as she said that everyone was awake, feeling a twisting feeling in his stomach at Beth’s _joke_. At first he didn’t find it funny–he went into full-on panic mode but then once she said that she was just kidding he finally let out the breath he didn’t even realize he was holding in and moved to gently nudge her with his elbow.

“Don’t scare me like that.”He huffed shaking his head lightly. Before anything he really wanted to talk to Rick about all this, Rick was like his brother, more of a brother than Merle ever was and his opinion mattered to him. Before the rest of the group found out – because eventually, they would, this was a small community and people talked. He wanted to make sure he told Rick before some sort of gossip were to get out.

He didn’t know what he’d say to the man but he figured he could come up with something, give Rick an idea of what was going on, maybe Rick could help him better understand what was going on himself. He shot Beth another look, but this time his face softened slightly as he realized she was just trying to make light of the situation. He often made stupid remarks or jokes when he was uncomfortable and right now he wasn’t sure what was going on.

Should he kiss her? Should he just roll over and go to sleep?

...

In her comfort, Beth forgot caution.They’d spent a long while kissing, pressed together that she’d fallen into comfort, and comfort made room for mistakes. The way he seized up at her joke, and the nudge, she was glad he’d let it slide. But honestly, it could have been worse. As a confession, she didn’t see it as all that bad. Beth rolled onto her side, hip-scooting a touch closer. Enough that she could wrap her arm over his chest, and settle herself into his shoulder.

She didn’t know what she would do when he went out scouting for people, or on the longer runs. She could hardly understand how Denise and Tara were coping with the two week break. Two weeks in this new world was something close to a lifetime. So much had changed for them in a _day_ ; imagine two weeks.

"I wouldn’t tell a soul, not unless you… Y’know. If you wanna tell. But people – " Beth lost her train of thought, and control of her mouth. She’d have to tell Maggie, because Maggie would be the first to pick up on the change.

The others would find out if they were a couple, if they kept sneaking out. She could remember last night, how closely she’d clung because she thought that might be their last chance. And here she was now, beside him, watching his hair dry because he’d showered. This whole night was bizarre.

Beth made a decision, against better judgement. She pushed herself up to climb across him, knees either side of his hips, her chest flush against his. She buried her face in his neck, not aware of the full picture here. It wasn’t about anything sinister or _suggestive_. She just wanted to hug him, to get as much of him as she could manage.

Because she had found so many ways to surprise him, and she wanted to keep surprising him. Daryl deserved as much happiness as she could put onto him, and he didn’t seem to mind her following her gut. It’s what got them here, after all.

"You gotta promise to be careful, when you’re out." Beth mumbled this into his throat. She worried about everyone, and she worried about him, but this was a risk. Their world wasn’t steady, and she’d been ripped from him twice.

Once, from the funeral home, and again when the bullet punched a hole in her head. She squeezed him tighter, not minding how her cheek got wet from the water. It’d cover the stray tear, the one she hadn’t even meant to shed. It was lost to his hair, and she ignored it. It was the pressure of her cheek against his arm, like when you lay in the same spot for too long.

She wasn’t sad. She wasn’t _allowed_ to be sad. She had him, here, now.

For now.

…

Part of him didn’t like the idea of keeping it a secret, he didn’t want her to think that he was embarrassed about whatever it was that the two of them had. He wasn’t, he was proud. He would be proud to call her his–it was something that he had even dreamed about before, though he’d never tell her that.

Another part of him was telling him that the others would judge him, that Beth was a lot younger than he was and they would judge him. He didn’t feel like age mattered anymore, the world had fallen apart and something silly like age didn’t seem to matter. What mattered were feelings and his feelings for Beth were strong.

For so long he had pushed those feelings aside and they were finally starting to surface once more. Back at the funeral home was when he realized that he had feelings for her, he wasn’t sure exactly what they were but he knew it was more than friendship. Stealing glances at her from across the table, her features lit up by candlelight and their light conversations turned to something deeper.

He didn’t know how to handle it then, now he was handling things better. When he had lost her he pushed those feelings away, buried them deep but now she was slowly bringing them back to the surface.

“We’LL figure it out.”He murmured, it wasn’t something that needed to be decided tonight. It was something that they could think about, right now the more important thing was figuring themselves out first. What all this was. He didn’t really get much longer to think because she was shifting and suddenly she was on top of him, her legs on either side of his waist and he tensed up slightly. He nearly held his breath for a few seconds before he let himself breathe again, this was okay. It would be okay.

He didn’t move at first unsure what to do with his hands, finally bringing them up to rest on her waist like before. He had a fascination about her waist, how tiny it was underneath his large and rough hands. He kept his hands still on her waist tilting his head slightly as she rested her head on the crook of his neck. “I promise.” He said, his voice lowered.

He couldn’t promise to always come back but he would fight to keep his promise of always being safe out there. That’s the way the world was one moment you’re here and the next you’re just gone. Runs were dangerous, he knew that but that was the only thing he felt like he could offer the group so he’d go. He and Aaron were safe, he trusted Aaron more than he trusted the rest of the people that resided in Alexandria.

His arms moved now to wrap around her, tugging her closer as his eyes slowly closed–moments ago feeling tense and now he completely melted into her touch not wanting her to ever pull away. “You gotta promise me the same thing, you be safe too.”

While he knew she didn’t leave the walls he knew it wasn’t always going to be safe in here. They had something that people wanted, eventually, people would try to take it from them. He wanted her to make the same promise, he wanted her to do whatever it took to stay alive–it was selfish he knew but he wanted her to stay alive for him.

There was no response from her, not in words. Her breathing had evened out to gentle sounds, snuffles, and he couldn’t bring himself to rouse her. Whether she was asleep or upset, he didn't have it in him to offer much else. All he could do was exist, warm and hopefully not too offense in scent or sight.

She’d be safe this time, so long as he was around. He promised that, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know if anything is confusing, or if you have any questions. Comments, kudos and bookmarks are all appreciated. I'll try to crop this as best I can, but sometimes it'll cut mid-thread.


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